Tl\e  TKo&ght  of  God 


T 


FROM   THE   LIBRARY  OF 
REV.   LOUIS    FITZGERALD    BENSON,   D.  D. 

BEQUEATHED    BY   HIM   TO 

THE   LIBRARY  OF 

PRINCETON  THEOLOGICAL  SEMINARY 


DMaioi     <SClS 

actio.     tV%0 


By  the  Same  Authors. 

The  Thought  of 

God  in 

Hymns 

and   Poems. 

Second 

Series. 

i6mo.    Cloth, 

$1.00; 

paper, 

50  cents. 

THE 


THOUG 


IN 


HYMNS    AND    POEMS 


BY 


# 


FREDERICK  L.    HOSMER 

AND     . 

WILLIAM   C.   GANNETT 


BOSTON 

LITTLE,   BROWN,   AND    COMPANY 

1900 


Copyright,  1885 

6Y    FREDERICK    L.    HOSMER    AND 
WILLIAM     C.    GANNETT 


©nibcrsttg  ^rrgg 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge 


TO 

J.  Ll.  J. 


AND    OUR    FELLOW-WORKERS    IN    THE    WEST 


Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

in  2012  with  funding  from 

Princeton  Theological  Seminary  Library 


http://archive.org/details/thoughthyOOhosm 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

The  Thought  of  God F.  L.  H.  .  .  <J 

Listening  for  God W.  C.  G. .  .  11 

The  Mystery  of  God F  L.  H.  .  .  13 

Consider  the  Lilies,  How  they  Grow  W.  C.  G.  .  .  15 

The  Secret  Place  of  the  Most  Higli  ,l        .  .  17 

The  Indwelling  God F.  L.  H.  .  .  19 

The  Highway W.  O.  G. .  .  21 

A  Psalm  of  Trust F.  L.  H.  .  .  23 

Glories  that  Remain \V.  C.  G. .  .  25 

The  Larger  Faith F  L  H.  .  .  27 

The  Stream  of  Faith W.  C.  G.  .  .  29 

Found F.  L  H.  .  .  31 

Theodore W.  C.  G.  .  .  33 

My  Dead F  L.  H.  .  .  35 

Green  Pastures  and  Still  Waters   .  W.  C.  G. .  .  37 

Father,  to  Thee F.  L.  H.  .  .  38 

Through  Unknown  Paths  ....  "         .  .  41 

He  that  Inhabiteth  Eternity  ...  "         .  .  43 

On  the  Mount H         .  .  45 


VI  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Loyalty F.  L.  H.  .  .  47 

Passing  Understanding      ...          "  .  .  49 

The  Sunny  Side W.  C.  G.  .  .  51 

Flower  Sunday F,  L.  H.  .  .  53 

The  Little  Ones "  .  .  54 

Christmas W.  C.  G.  .  .  55 

The  Children's  Service  .     .     .    .  F.  L.  H.  .  .  57 

Jesus  Who? W.G.  O.  .  .  60 

Christmas F.  L.  H.  .  .  63 

Jesus "  .  .  65 

The  Year  of  the  Lord    .    .    .    .  W.  C.  G.  .  .  67 

The  New  Year F  L.  H.  .  .  69 

The  Day "  .  .  72 

The  Hills  of  the  Lord    .    .    .  W.  C.  G.  .  .  74 

Sunday  on  the  Hill-top       ...           "  .  .  77 

The  Cathedral   .......           "  .  .  80 

The  Past   ........                "  .  .  84 

Summer  Chemistry "  .  .  87 

Where  Did  it  Go  ? "  .  .  89 

Recognition "  .  .  91 

In  a  Look "  .  .  95 

The  Fiftieth  Anniversary  ...          "  .  .  97 

The  Teacher "  .  .  99 

The  Cliff  at  Newport      ....  F.  L.  H.  ..  100 

In  Sleep "  .  .  101 

Ministry "  .  .  103 

The  Minister's  Journey      .    .    .  W.CG.  .  .  104 

In  Twos "  .  .  107 


CONTENTS 


Vll 


Poem  and  Dogma      .    .    . 

The  Halo 

Not  All  There 

Let  it  Begin  Here!  .  .  . 
Aunt  Phillis's  Guest  .  .  . 
The  Negro  Burying-ground 
Gettysburg  in  1885  .  .  . 
The  Right  Goes  Marching  On 
Our  Country 


W.  C  G. 


F.  L.  H. 


PAGE 
110 

113 

115 
117 
119 
123 
126 
129 
131 


THE  THOUGHT   OF  GOD 

One  thought  I  have,  my  ample  creed, 

So  deep  it  is  and  broad, 
And  equal  to  my  every  need,  — 

It  is  the  thought  of  God. 

Each  morn  unfolds  some  fresh  surprise, 

I  feast  at  Life's  full  board ; 
And  rising  in  my  inner  skies 

Shines  forth  the  thought  of  God. 

At  night  my  gladness  is  my  prayer; 

I  drop  my  daily  load, 
And  every  care  is  pillowed  there 

Upon  the  thought  of  God. 

I  ask  not  far  before  to  see, 

But  take  in  trust  my  road  ; 
Lift1,  death,  and  immortality 

Are  in  my  thought  of  God. 


10  THE   THOUGHT  OF  GOD 

To  this  their  secret  strength  they  owed 
The  martyr's  path  who  trod  ; 

The  fountains  of  their  patience  flowed 
From  out  their  thought  of  God. 

Be  still  the  light  upon  my  way, 

My  pilgrim  staff  and  rod, 
My  rest  by  night,  my  strength  by  day, 

0  blessed  thought  of  God  ! 

1880 


LISTENING  FOR  GOD 

I  hear  it  often  in  the  dark, 

I  hear  it  in  the  light,  — 
Where  is  the  voice  that  calls  to  me 

"With  such  a  quiet  might  ? 
It  seems  but  echo  to  my  thought, 

And  yet  beyond  the  stars  ; 
It  seems  a  heart-beat  in  a  hush, 

And  yet  the  plauet  jars ! 

Oh,  may  it  be  that  far  within 

My  inmost  soul  there  lies 
A  spirit-sky,  that  opens  with 

Those  voices  of  surprise  ? 
And  can  it  be,  by  night  and  day, 

That  firmament  serene 
Is  just  the  heaven,  where  God  himself, 

The  Father,  dwells  unseen  ? 


12  LISTENING  FOR   GOD 

0  God  within,  so  close  to  me 

That  every  thought  is  plain, 
Be  Judge,  be  Friend,  be  Father  still, 

And  in  thy  heaven  reign  ! 
Thy  heaven  is  mine,  —  my  very  soul ! 

Thy  words  are  sweet  and  strong  ; 
They  fill  my  inward  silences 

With  music  and  with  song. 

They  send  me  challenges  to  right, 

And  loud  rebuke  my  ill ; 
They  ring  my  bells  of  victory, 

They  breathe  my  '  Peace,  be  still ! 
They  ever  seem  to  say,  — c  My  child, 

Why  seek  me  so  all  day  ? 
Now  journey  inward  to  thyself. 

And  listen  by  the  way ! 7 

Milwaukee,  1S70 


THE  MYSTERY  OF   GOD 

0  thou,  in  all  thy  might  so  far, 

In  all  thy  love  so  near, 
Beyond  the  range  of  sun  and  star, 

And  yet  beside  us  here,  — 

What  heart  can  comprehend  thy  name, 
Or,  searching,  find  thee  out, 

Who  art  within,  a  quickening  Flame, 
A  Presence  round  about  ? 

Yet  though  I  know  thee  but  in  part, 

I  ask  not,  Lord,  for  more  : 
Enough  for  me  to  know  thou  art, 

To  love  thee  and  adore. 

0  sweeter  than  aught  else  besides, 

The  tender  mystery 
That  like  a  veil  of  shadow  hides 

The  Light  I  may  not  see  ! 


14  THE  MYSTERY  OF   GOD 

And  clearer  than  all  things  I  know 
Is  childlike  faith  to  me, 

That  makes  the  darkest  way  I  go 
An  open  path  to  thee. 

1S76 


CONSIDER  THE  LILIES,  HOW  THEY 
GROW 

He  hides  within  the  lily 

A  strong  and  tender  care, 
That  wins  the  earth-born  atoms 

To  glory  of  the  air ; 
He  weaves  the  shining  garments 

Unceasingly  and  still, 
Along  the  quiet  waters, 

In  niches  of  the  hill. 

We  linger  at  the  vigil 

With  him  who  bent  the  knee 
To  watch  the  old-time  lilies 

In  distant  Galilee ; 
And  still  the  worship  deepens 

And  quickens  into  new, 
As  brightening  down  the  ages 

God's  secret  thrilleth  through. 


16  CONSIDER    THE  LILIES 

0  Toiler  of  the  lily, 

Thy  touch  is  in  the  Man  ! 
No  leaf  that  dawns  to  petal 

But  hints  the  angel-plan. 
The  flower-horizons  open  ! 

The  blossom  vaster  shows ! 
We  hear  thy  wide  worlds  echo,  — 

See  how  the  lily  grows  ! 

Shy  yearnings  of  the  savage, 

Unfolding  thought  by  thought, 
To  holy  lives  are  lifted, 

To  visions  fair  are  wrought ; 
The  races  rise  and  cluster, 

And  evils  fade  and  fall, 
Till  chaos  blooms  to  beauty, 

Thy  purpose  crowning  all ! 

F.  R.  A.  Festival,  1873 


THE  SECRET  PLACE  OF  THE  MOST 
HIGH 

The  Lord  is  in  his  Holy  Place 

In  all  things  near  and  far! 
Shekinah  of  the  snowflake,  he, 

And  Glory  of  the  star, 
And  Secret  of  the  April  land 

That  stirs  the  field  to  flowers, 
Whose  little  tabernacles  rise 

To  hold  him  through  the  hours. 

He  hides  himself  within  the  love 

Of  those  whom  we  love  best ; 
The  smiles  and  tones  that  make  our  homes 

Are  shrines  by  him  possessed  ; 
He  tents  within  the  lonely  heart 

And  shepherds  every  thought ; 
We  find  him  not  by  seeking  long,  — 

We  lose  him  not,  unsought. 

2 


1 8     SECRE  T  PLACE  OF  THE  MOS T  HIGH 

Our  art  may  build  its  Holy  Place, 

Our  feet  on  Sinai  stand, 
But  Holiest  of  Holies  knows 

No  tread,  no  touch  of  hand  ; 
The  listening  soul  makes  Sinai  still 

Wherever  we  may  be, 
And  in  the  vow,  '  Thy  will  be  done !  • 

Lies  all  Gethsemane. 

For  C.  W.  W.,  Chicago,  1878 


THE  INDWELLING  GOD 

'  O  that  I  knew  where  I  might  find  him  ! ' 

Go  not,  my  soul,  in  search  of  him, 
Thou  wilt  not  find  him  there,  — 

Or  in  the  depths  of  shadow  dim, 
Or  heights  of  upper  air. 

For  not  in  far-off  realms  of  space 
The  Spirit  hath  its  throne  ; 

In  every  heart  it  findeth  place 
And  waiteth  to  be  known. 

Thought  answereth  alone  to  thought, 
And  Soul  with  soul  hath  kin  ; 

The  outward  God  he  findeth  not 
Who  finds  not  God  within. 

And  if  the  vision  come  to  thee 

Revealed  by  inward  sign, 
Earth  will  be  full  of  Deity 

And  with  his  glory  shine! 


20  THE  INDWELLING  GOD 

Thou  shalt  not  want  for  company 
Nor  pitch  thy  tent  alone  ; 

The  indwelling  God  will  go  with  thee 
And  show  thee  of  his  own. 

0  gift  of  gifts,  O  grace  of  grace, 
That  God  should  condescend 

To  make  thy  heart  his  dwelling-place 
And  be  thy  daily  Friend ! 

Then  go  not  thou  in  search  of  him, 

But  to  thyself  repair  ; 
Wait  thou  within  the  silence  dim 

And  thou  shalt  find  him  there  I 

1879 


THE   HIGHWAY 

*  Whatever  road  I  take  joins  the  highway  that  leads  to 
thee.1 

When  the  night  is  still  and  far, 

Watcher  from  the  shadowed  deeps ! 
When  the  morning  breaks  its  bar, 

Life  that  shines  and  wakes  and  leaps  I 
When  old  Bible-verses  glow, 

Starring  all  the  deep  of  thought, 
Till  it  fills  with  quiet  dawn 

From  the  peace  our  years  have  brought,  — 
Sun  within  both  skies,  we  see 
How  all  lights  lead  back  to  thee  1 

'Cross  the  field  of  daily  work 

Run  the  footpaths,  leading  —  where? 

Run  they  east  or  run  they  west, 
One  way  all  the  workers  fare. 


I  THE  HIGHWAY 

Every  awful  thing  of  earth,  — 

Sin  and  pain  and  battle-noise ; 
Every  dear  thing,  —  baby's  birth, 
Faces,  flowers,  or  lovers'  joys,  — 
Is  a  wicket-gate,  where  we 
Join  the  great  highway  to  thee ! 

Restless,  restless,  speed  we  on,  — 

Whither  in  the  vast  unknown  ? 
Not  to  you  and  not  to  me 

Are  the  sealed  orders  shown  : 
But  the  Hand  that  built  the  road, 

And  the  Light  that  leads  the  feet, 
And  this  inward  restlessness, 

Are  such  invitation  sweet, 
That  where  I  no  longer  see, 
Highway  still  must  lead  to  thee  I 

For  J.  W.  C,  Brooklyn,  1876 


A  PSALM  OF  TRUST 

I  little  see,  I  little  know, 

Yet  can  I  fear  no  ill : 
He  who  hath  guided  me  till  now 

Will  be  my  leader  still. 

No  burden  yet  was  on  me  laid 

Of  trouble  or  of  care, 
But  he  my  trembling  step  hath  stayed, 

And  given  me  strength  to  bear. 

I  came  not  hither  of  my  will 

Or  wisdom  of  mine  own: 
That  higher  Power  upholds  me  still, 

And  still  must  bear  me  on. 

I  knew  not  of  this  wondrous  earth, 
Nor  dreamed  what  blessings  lay 

Beyond  the  gates  of  human  birth 
To  glad  my  future  way. 


24  A  PSALM  OF   TRUST 

And  what  beyond  this  life  may  be 

As  little  I  divine,  — 
What  love  may  wait  to  welcome  me, 

What  fellowships  be  mine. 

I  know  not  what  beyond  may  lie, 

But  look,  in  humble  faith, 
Into  a  larger  life  to  die 

And  find  new  birth  in  death. 

He  will  not  leave  my  soul  forlorn  ; 

I  still  must  find  him  true, 
Whose  mercies  have  been  new  each  morn 

And  every  evening  new. 

Upon  his  providence  I  lean, 

As  lean  in  faith  I  must : 
The  lesson  of  my  life  hath  been 

A  heart  of  grateful  trust. 

And  so  my  onward  way  I  fare 
With  happy  heart  and  calm, 

And  mingle  with  my  daily  care 
The  music  of  my  psalm. 

1833 


GLOEIES  THAT  REMAIN 

1  If  that  which  is  done  away  was  glorious,  much  more  that 
which  remaineth  is  glorious.' 

Fairer  grows  the  earth  each  morning 

To  the  eyes  that  watch  aright ; 
Every  dew-drop  sparkles  warning 

Of  a  miracle  in  sight ; 
Of  some  unsuspected  glory 

Waiting  in  the  old  and  plain  ; 
Poet's  dream  nor  traveller's  story 

Words  such  wonders  as  remain. 

Everywhere  the  gate  of  Beauty 

Fresh  across  the  pathway  swings, 
As  we  follow  truth  or  duty 

Inward  to  the  heart  of  things; 
And  we  enter,  foolish  mortals, 

Thinking  now  the  heart  to  find,  — 
There  to  gaze  on  vaster  portals ! 

Still  the  Glory  lies  behind! 


26  GLORIES   THAT  REMAIN 

Faith  I  love  !     I  love  you  deeper 

As  I  press  your  portals  through, 
Heeding  not  the  call  of  keeper, 

Heeding  sole  the  vision  new ! 
All  our  creeds  are  hinting  only 

Of  a  faith,  of  nobler  strain  : 
God  is  living  !  are  we  lonely- 

'Mid  his  glories  that  remain  ? 

F.  R.  A.  Festival,  1874 


THE  LARGER  FAITH 

We  pray  no  more,  made  lowly  wise, 

For  miracle  and  sign  ; 
Anoint  our  eyes  to  see  within 

The  common  the  divine. 

1  Lo  here,  lo  there,'  no  more  we  cry, 

Dividing  with  our  call 
The  mantle  of  thy  presence,  Lord, 

That  seamless  covers  all. 

We  turn  from  seeking  thee  afar 

And  in  unwonted  ways, 
To  build  from  out  our  daily  lives 

The  temples  of  thy  praise. 

And  if  thy  casual  comings,  Lord, 
To  hearts  of  old  were  dear, 

What  joy  shall  dwell  within  the  faith 
That  feels  thee  ever  near  1 


28  THE  LARGER  FAITH 

And  nobler  yet  shall  duty  grow, 
And  more  shall  worship  be, 

When  thou  art  found  in  all  our  life, 
And  ail  our  life  in  thee. 

1879 


THE  STREAM  OF  FAITH 

From  heart  to  heart,  from  creed  to  creed, 

The  hidden  river  runs  ; 
It  quickens  all  the  ages  down, 

It  binds  the  sires  to  sons,  — 
The  stream  of  Faith,  whose  source  is  God, 

Whose  sound,  the  sound  of  prayer, 
Whose  meadows  are  the  holy  lives 

Upspringing  everywhere. 

How  deep  it  flowed  in  olden  time, 

When  men  by  it  were  strong 
To  dare  the  untrod  wilderness, 

Charmed  on  by  river-song ! 
Where'er  they  passed  by  hill  or  shore, 

They  gave  the  song  a  voice, 
Till  all  the  craggy  land  had  heard 

The  Father's  Faith  rejoice. 


30  THE  STREAM  OF  FAITH 

And  still  it  moves,  a  broadening  flood  ; 

And  fresher,  fuller  grows 
A  sense  as  if  the  sea  were  near, 

Towards  which  the  river  flows ! 
0  thou,  who  art  the  secret  Source 

That  rises  in  each  soul, 
Thou  art  the  Ocean  too,  —  thy  charm, 

That  ever-deepening  roll ! 

For  J.  M.,  Newburyport,  1875 


FOUND 

They  that  know  thy  name  will  put  their  trust  in  thee. 

0  Name,  all  other  names  above, 

What  art  thou  not  to  me, 
Now  I  have  learned  to  trust  thy  love 

And  cast  my  care  on  thee  ! 

What  is  our  being  but  a  cry, 

A  restless  longing  still, 
Which  thou  alone  canst  satisfy, 

Alone  thy  fulness  fill ! 

Thrice  blessed  be  the  holy  souls 
That  lead  the  way  to  thee, 

That  burn  upon  the  martyr-rolls 
And  lists  of  prophecy. 

And  sweet  it  is  to  tread  the  ground 
O'er  which  therr  faith  hath  trod  ; 

But  sweeter  far,  when  thou  art  found, 
The  soul's  own  sense  of  God  ! 


32  FOUND 

The  thought  of  thee  all  sorrow  calms  ; 
Our  anxious  burdens  fall ; 
His  crosses  turn  to  triumph-palms 
Who  finds  in  God  his  all. 

1878 


THEODORE 

O  Heart  of  all  the  shining  day, 

The  green  earth's  still  Delight, 
Thou  Freshness  in  the  morning  wind, 

Thou  Silence  of  the  night, 
Thou  Beauty  of  our  temple-walls, 

Thou  Strength  within  the  stone,  — 
"What  is  it  we  can  offer  thee 

That  is  not  first  thine  own  1 

Old  memories  throng :  we  think  of  those 

Awhile  with  us  who  trod, 
Whose  hands  yet  lift  within  our  lives,  — 

We  called  them  <  Gift  of  God :  » 
And  thine  these  shinings  in  our  thought, 

This  eager,  love- wrought  hope, 
This  deathless  faith  they  wait  and  watch 

On  some  fair  upper  slope. 
3 


34  THEODORE 

O,  solemn-sweet  the  sureness  grows, 

When  such  as  they  have  passed  ; 
The  darkness  fills,  the  silence  thrills, 

Their  life  pervades  the  Vast ; 
The  vanished  virtue  quickens  through 

And  touches  every  star  ; 
Their  unseen  love  —  we  know  it  thine, 

Thy  Living  Love  they  are  ! 

Parker  Memorial  Dedication,  1873 


MY  DEAD 

I  cannot  think  of  them  as  dead 
Who  walk  with  me  no  more  ; 

Along  the  path  of  life  I  tread 
They  have  but  gone  before. 

The  Father's  house  is  mansioned  fair 

Beyond  my  vision  dim  ; 
All  souls  are  his,  and  here  or  there 

Are  living  unto  him. 

And  still  their  silent  ministry 
Within  my  heart  hath  place, 

As  when  on  earth  they  walked  with  me 
And  met  me  face  to  face. 

Their  lives  are  made  forever  mine; 

What  they  to  me  have  been 
Hath  left  henceforth  its  seal  and  sign 

Engraven  deep  within. 


36  MY  DEAD 

Mine  are  they  by  an  ownership 
Nor  time  nor  death  can  free  ; 

For  God  hath  given  to  Love  to  keep 
Its  own  eternally. 

1882 


GREEN    PASTURES    AND    STILL 
WATERS 

Clear  in  memory's  silent  reaches 

Lie  the  pastures  I  have  seen, 
Greener  than  the  sun -lit  spaces 

Where  the  May  has  flung  her  green: 
Needs  no  sun  and  needs  no  starlight 

To  illume  these  fields  of  mine, 
For  the  glory  of  dead  faces 

Is  the  sun,  the  stars,  that  shine. 

More  than  one  I  count  my  pastures 

As  my  life-path  groweth  long  ; 
By  their  quiet  waters  straying 

Oft  I  lay  me,  and  am  strong. 
And  I  call  each  by  its  giver, 

And  the  dear  names  bring  to  them 
Glory  as  from  shining  faces 

In  some  New  Jerusalem. 


38  GREEN  PASTURES 

Yet,  0  well  I  can  remember, 

Once  I  called  my  pastures,  Pain, 
And  their  waters  were  a  torrent 

Sweeping  through  my  life  amain ! 
Now  I  call  them  Peace  and  Stillness, 

Brightness  of  all  Happy  Thought, 
"Where  I  linger  for  a  blessing 

From  my  faces  that  are  nought. 

Nought  ?    I  fear  not.     If  the  Power 

Maketh  thus  his  pastures  green, 
Maketh  thus  hi-  quiet  waters, 

Out  of  waste  his  heavens  serene, 
I  can  trust  the  mighty  Shepherd 

Loseth  none  he  ever  led  ; 
Somewhere  yet  a  greeting  waits  me 

On  the  faces  of  my  dead  ! 

F.  R.  A.  Festival,  1877 


FATHER,   TO  THEE 

Father,  to  thee  we  look  in  all  our  sorrow, 
Thou  art  the  fountain  whence  our  healing 
flows  ; 
Dark  though  the  night,  joy  cometh  with  the 
morrow ; 
Safely  they  rest  who  on  thy  love  repose. 

When  fond  hopes  fail  and  skies  are  dark  be- 
fore us, 
When  the  vain  cares  that  vex  our  life  in- 
crease, — 
Comes  with  its  calm  the  thought  that  thou 
art  o'er  us, 
And  we  grow  quiet,  folded  in  thy  peace. 

Nought  shall  affright  us  on  thy  goodness 
leaning, 
Low  in  the  heart  faith  singeth  still  her 
sons : 


40  FATHER,    TO   THEE 

Chastened  by  pain  we  learn  life's  deeper 
meaning, 
And  in  our  weakness  thou  dost  make  us 
strong. 

Patient,  0  heart,  though  heavy  be  thy  sorrows ! 

Be  not  cast  down,  disquieted  in  vain ; 
Yet  shalt  thou  praise  him  when  these  dark- 
ened furrows, 
Where  now  he  plougheth,  wave  with  golden 
grain. 

1881 


THROUGH  UNKNOWN  PATHS 

0  thou  who  art  of  all  that  is 

Beginning  both  and  end, 
We  follow  thee  through  unknown  paths, 

Since  all  to  thee  must  tend: 
Thy  judgments  are  a  mighty  deep 

Beyond  all  fathom-line ; 
Our  wisdom  is  the  childlike  heart, 

Our  strength,  to  trust  in  thine. 

We  bless  thee  for  the  skies  above, 

And  for  the  earth  beneath, 
For  hopes  that  blossom  here  below 

And  wither  not  with  death  ; 
But  most  we  bless  thee  for  thyself, 

0  heavenly  Light  within, 
Whose  dayspring  in  our  hearts  dispels 

The  darkness  of  our  sin. 


42      THROUGH  UNKNOWN  PATHS 

Be  thou  in  joy  our  deeper  joy, 

Our  comfort  when  distressed  ; 
Be  thou  by  day  our  strength  for  toil, 

And  thou  by  night  our  rest. 
And  when  these  earthly  dwellings  fail 

And  Time's  last  hour  is  come, 
Be  thou,  O  God,  our  dwelling-place 

And  our  eternal  home  1 

1877 


HE  THAT  INHABITETH  ETERNITY 

Who  does  not  feel  how  weak 

Are  all  our  words  to  speak 

Of  him,  the  Infinite,  — 

Below  all  depth,  above  all  height ! 

Yet  hath  no  other  speech 

To  me  such  wondrous  reach 

As  this  the  prophet  saith :  that  he 

Inhabiteth  Eternity  ! 

We  dwell  in  Time  :  our  ear 
Is  deafened  by  things  near  ; 
Darkly  we  see,  and  know 
Only  in  part,  also. 
From  troubles  that  annoy 
Plucking  no  future  joy, 
Sweetening  failure's  bitterness 
With  no  deferred  but  sure  success,  — 
As  if  the  passing  hour  were  all, 
With  it  we  rise  and  fall : 
The  while  that  he 
Inhabiteth  Eternity! 


44     HE  THA  T  INHABITE  TH  E  TERNITY 

Patient  and  suffering  long 

With  man's  mistakes  and  wrong  ; 

Seeing  how  all  threads  come 

In  place  in  Time's  vast  loom, 

And  in  the  finished  web  fulfil 

The  pattern  of  his  perfect  will ; 

To  whom  as  one  is  seen 

What  is,  will  be,  hath  been,  — 

Tranquil  and  lifted  clear 

Above  our  fevered  atmosphere, 

Forever  dwelleth  he 

In  the  sure  strength  of  his  Eternity ! 

0  Father  of  my  life, 

Give  me,  amid  its  strife, 

To  bear  within  my  breast 

The  secret  of  thy  rest,  — 

The  river  of  thy  peace  within, 

Whose  banks  are  always  fresh  and  green  ; 

Give  me,  while  here  in  Time  I  be, 

Also  to  dwell  with  thee  in  thine  Eternity. 


1879 


ON  THE  MOUNT 

Not  always  on  the  mount  may  we 
Kapt  in  the  heavenly  vision  be; 
The  shores  of  thought  and  feeling  know 
The  Spirit's  tidal  ebb  and  flow. 

Lord,  it  is  good  abiding  here  — 
We  cry,  the  heavenly  presence  near : 
The  vision  vanishes,  our  eyes 
Are  lifted  into  vacant  skies  1 

Yet  hath  one  such  exalted  hour 
Upon  the  soul  redeeming  power, 
And  in  its  strength  through  after  days 
We  travel  our  appointed  ways  ; 

Till  all  the  lowly  vale  grows  bright 
Transfigured  in  remembered  light, 
And  in  untiring  souls  we  bear 
The  freshness  of  the  upper  air. 


46  ON  THE  MOUNT 

The  mount  for  vision,  —  but  below 
The  paths  of  daily  duty  go, 
And  nobler  life  therein  shall  own 
The  pattern  on  the  mountain  shown. 

1882 


LOYALTY 

When  courage  fails,  and  faith  burns  low, 

And  men  are  timid  grown, 
Hold  fast  thy  loyalty,  and  know 

That  Truth  still  nioveth  on. 

For  unseen  messengers  she  hath 

To  work  her  will  and  ways, 
And  even  human  scorn  and  wrath 

God  turneth  to  her  praise. 

She  can  both  meek  and  lordly  be, 

In  heavenly  might  secure  ; 
With  her  is  pledge  of  victory, 

And  patience  to  endure. 

The  race  is  not  unto  the  swift, 

The  battle  to  the  strong, 
When  dawn  her  judgment-days  that  sift 

The  claims  of  right  and  wrong. 


48  LOYALTY 

And  more  than  thou  canst  do  for  Truth 

Can  she  on  thee  confer, 
If  thou.  0  heart,  but  give  thy  youth 

And  manhood  unto  her. 

For  she  can  make  thee  inly  bright, 

Thy  self-love  purge  away, 
And  lead  thee  in  the  path  whose  light 

Shines  to  the  perfect  day. 

Who  follow  her,  though  men  deride, 
In  her  strength  shall  be  strong ; 

Shall  see  their  shame  become  their  pride, 
And  share  her  triumph-song  ! 

1881 


PASSING    UNDERSTANDING 

The  peace  of  God,  that  passeth  all  understanding.' 

Many  things  in  life  there  are 
Past  our  '  understanding '  far, 
And  the  humblest  flower  that  grows 
Hides  a  secret  no  man  knows. 

All  unread  by  outer  sense 
Lies  the  soul's  experience  ; 
Mysteries  around  us  rise, 
We,  the  deeper  mysteries  ! 

Who  hath  scales  to  weigh  the  love 
That  from  heart  to  heart  doth  move, 
The  divine  unrest  within, 
Or  the  keen  remorse  for  sin  ? 

Who  can  map  those  tracks  of  light 
Where  the  fancy  wings  its  flight, 
Or  to  outer  vision  trace 
Thought's  mysterious  dwelling-place  1 
4 


50        PASSING   UNDERSTANDING 

Who  can  sound  the  silent  sea 
Where,  with  sealed  orders,  we 
Voyage  from  birth's  forgotten  shore 
Toward  the  unknown  land  before  ? 

While  we  may  so  little  scan 
Of  thy  vast  creation's  plan, 
Teach  us,  O  our  God,  to  be 
Humble  in  our  walk  with  thee  ! 

May  we  trust,  through  ill  and  good, 
Thine  unchanging  Fatherhood, 
And  our  highest  wisdom  find 
In  the  reverent  heart  and  mind ! 

Clearer  vision  shall  be  ours, 
Larger  wisdom,  ampler  powers, 
And  the  meaning  yet  appear 
Of  what  passes  knowledge  here. 

1885 


THE  SUNNY  SIDE 

A  silvery  tide,  called  *  Sunny  Side,* 

G-oes  creeping  around  the  earth, 
And  never  a  place  but  wins  a  grace 

In  the  jubilant  flood  of  mirth, 
From   the   dancing   gleam   on   the    fretted 
stream 

To  the  dimple  on  baby's  cheek, 
That  in  and  out,  to  his  merry  shout, 

Twinkles  a  hide-and-seek. 

Wherever  it  goes,  the  darkness  glows 

And  men  and  women  sing  ; 
It  fills  their  eyes  with  a  glad  surprise, 

And  stays  their  sorrowing  ; 
The  heart  is  a-tune,  the  world  is  June, 

Nothing  is  old  or  gray, 
As  it  passes  along  with  the  swell  of  a  song, 

Like  a  musical  break  of  dav. 


52  THE  SUNNY  SIDE 

Spirit  of  Love,  in  the  blue  above 

Who  makest  the  sun  to  flame, 
Who  guidest  the  flight  of  the  planet  bright, 

And  callest  the  stars  by  name, 
It  is  thou  dost  hide  in  the  '  Sunny  Side/ 

And  creepest  from  heart  to  heart ! 
And,  soul  or  clod,  we  share  the  God, 

Who  comes,  —  and  the  shadows  part ! 

1875 


FLOWER  SUNDAY 

The  rose  is  queen  among  the  flowers, 

None  other  is  so  fair  : 
The  lily  nodding  on  her  stem 

"With  fragrance  fills  the  air. 
But  sweeter  than  the  lily's  breath 

And  than  the  rose  more  fair, 
The  tender  love  of  human  hearts 

That  springeth  everywhere. 

The  rose  will  fade  and  fall  away, 

The  lily  too  will  die  : 
But  love  shall  live  forevermore 

Beyond  the  starry  sky. 
Then  sweeter  than  the  lily's  breath 

And  than  the  rose  more  fair, 
The  tender  love  of  human  hearts 

Upspringing  everywhere. 

1875 


THE  LITTLE  ONES 

Children's  Sunday 

All  hidden  lie  the  future  ways 
Their  little  feet  shall  fare  ; 

But  holy  thoughts  within  us  stir 
And  rise  on  lips  of  prayer. 

To  us  beneath  the  noonday  heat, 
Dust-stained  and  travel- worn, 

How  beautiful  their  robes  of  white, 
The  freshness  of  their  morn  ! 

Within  us  wakes  the  childlike  heart, 
Back  rolls  the  tide  of  years  ; 

The  silent  wells  of  memory  start 
And  flow  in  happy  tears. 

0  little  ones,  ye  cannot  know 
The  power  with  which  ye  plead, 

Nor  why,  as  on  through  life  we  go, 
The  little  child  doth  lead. 


CHRISTMAS 

Still  the  angels  sing  on  high, 
Still  the  bearded  men  draw  nigh, 
Bringing  worship  with  the  morn, 
"When  a  little  child  is  born  ; 
Baby-glory  in  the  place, 
Star-look  on  the  mother's  face, 
Psalm  within  the  mother's  heart,  — 
Christmas  all  in  counterpart  ! 

Quaintest  wight  that  ever  stirred, 
With  thy  ears  that  never  heard, 
Eyes  that  eye  a  brand-new  world, 
Tiny  limbs  but  half  uncurled, 
Wee-bit  Adam !  wee-bit  Christ ! 
Earth,  by  thee  new-paradised, 
Blooms  to  miracles  again, 
Echoes  God's  '  Good- will  to  men ! ' 


56  CHRISTMAS 

Blessings  on  the  little  child 
In  the  cave  far-off  and  wild  ! 
For  that  nursery  divine 
Tells  me  well,  0  baby  mine, 
That  thou  art  Emmanuel, 
'  God  with  us,'  come  here  to  dwell, 
Come  to  say,  ■  Since  time  began, 
Son  of  God  is  Son  of  Man.' 

1S75 


THE  CHILDREN'S   SERVICE 

From  the  German  of  Karl  Gerok 

The  church-bells  for  service  are  ringing, 
The  father  and  mother  have  gone  ; 

And  three  little  golden-haired  children 
Are  left  in  the  doorway  alone. 

For  these  are  too  young  for  the  meeting  — 
The  busy  and  frolicsome  elves  — 

So  they  think  to  praise  God  like  their  elders 
"With  a  holy-time  all  by  themselves  ! 

Each  one  a  big  volume  has  taken 

And  holds  it  top-down  'gainst  the  breast ; 

Forthwith  the  devout  little  mimics 
Sing  out  in  their  loudest  and  best  ! 

They  know  not  themselves   what  they're 
singing, 

And  each  takes  a  tune  of  his  own  :  — 
Sing  on,  0  ye  children,  your  voices 

Are  heard  at  the  heavenly  throne  ! 


58          THE  CHILDREN'S  SERVICE 

And  there  stand  your  angels  in  glory, 
While  songs  to  the  Father  they  raise, 

Who  out  of  the  mouths  of  the  children 
Hath  perfected  worship  and  praise. 

Sing  on ;  over  there  in  the  garden 
There  singeth  an  answering  choir  ; 

'T  is  the  brood  of  light-hearted  birdlings 
That  chirp  in  the  bloom-laden  brier. 

Sing  on  ;  there  is  trust  in  your  music,  — 
The  Father,  he  asks  not  for  more  ; 

Quick  flieth  the  heart  that  is  sinless 
Like  a  dove  to  the  heavenly  door. 

Sing  on  ;  we  sing  who  are  older, 
Yet  little  we  too  understand  : 

And  our  Bibles,  how  often  we  hold  them 
The  bottom-side  up  in  our  hand  ! 

Sing  on  ;  in  the  songs  of  our  service 
We  follow  each  note  of  the  card  ; 

But  alas,  in  our  strife  with  each  other 
How  oft  is  the  melody  marred ! 


THE  CHILDREN- S  SERVICE         59 

Sing  on  ;  for  earth's  loftiest  music 
Though  ever  so  fine  and  so  clear, 

What  is  it  ?     The  lisping  of  children, 
A  breath  in  the  Infinite 


JESUS    WHO? 


1  The  other  day  I  told  my  very  little  daughter,  answering 
a  question  of  hers,  that  a  certain  picture  was  Jesus.  "  Jesus 
who?"  said  she— "  Jesus  God?"' 


And  are  the  children  prophets,  then, 

Or  have  they  lived  before, 
To  speak  the  words  so  simple-wise, 

And  babble  spirit-lore  ? 

Their  wonder  plays  on  questions  quaint, 

All  vision  and  surprise, 
Like  clumsy  gates  whose  careless  swing 

Reveals  half  Paradise. 


Yes,  little  May,  you  've  said  it,  — 
1  God '  is  his  other  name  ; 

Ours  always  ends  with  Father's  ; 
Yours  is  the  very  same. 


JESUS   WHO?  61 

Our  earth  is  one  home  only, 

Our  Father  only  one, 
A.nd  all  the  folks  are  brothers, 

And  every  one  his  son. 

And  up  and  down  the  city 

Wherever  you  have  trod, 
It's  Mary-,  Maud-,  and  Katy-, 

John-God,  and  "Willie-God. 


0  Life  and  Love,  in  whom  we  are, 
From  whom,  to  whom  all  lives, 

1  thank  thee  for  the  christening 
Thy  little  prophet  gives. 

The  simple  Bible  long  ago 

Hinted  the  secret  well, 
When  child-faith  named  its  hero-babes, 

'Judah' and 'Israel.'1 

Why  strangely  sounds  the  name  divine 
Blending  with  ours  to-day  ? 

Is  God  an  ancient  lost  afar, 
A  fashion  gone  for  aye  ? 

Judah,'  i.  e., Praise  God:  'Israel,'  i.  e.,  God  strives. 


62  JESUS   WHO? 

Ah,  no,  but  thought  too  awful  grows 
For  name  or  speech  or  look  : 

In  silent  floods  the  secret  pours 
That  babbled  in  the  brook. 

1871 


CHRISTMAS 

To-day  be  joy  in  every  heart, 

For  lo,  the  angel  throng 
Once  more  above  the  listening  earth 

Repeats  the  advent  song  : 

1  Peace  on  the  earth,  good-will  to  men  ! ' 

Before  us  goes  the  star 
That  leads  us  on  to  holier  births 

And  life  diviner  far  ! 

Ye  men  of  strife,  forget  to-day 
Your  harshness  and  your  hate  ; 

Too  long  ye  stay  the  promised  years 
For  which  the  nations  wait  ! 

And  ye  upon  the  tented  field, 
Sheathe,  sheathe  to-day  the  sword  ! 

By  love,  and  not  by  might,  shall  come 
The  kincrdom  of  the  Lord. 


64  CHRISTMAS 

0  star  of  human  faith  and  hope  ! 

Thy  light  shall  lead  us  on, 
Until  it  fades  in  morning's  glow, 

And  heaven  on  earth  is  won. 

1877 


JESUS 

Immortal  by  their  deed  and  word, 
Like  light  around  them  shed, 

Still  speak  the  prophets  of  the  Lord, 
Still  live  the  sainted  dead. 

The  voice  of  old  by  Jordan's  flood 

Yet  floats  upon  the  air  ; 
We  hear  it  in  beatitude, 

In  parable  and  prayer. 

And  still  the  beauty  of  that  life 
Shines  star-like  on  our  way, 

And  breathes  its  calm  amid  the  strife 
And  burden  of  to-day. 

Earnest  of  life  forevermore, 

That  life  of  duty  here,  — 
The  trust  that  in  the  darkest  hour 

Looked  forth  and  knew  no  fear  ! 
5 


JESUS 

Spirit  of  Jesus,  still  speed  on  ! 

Speed  on  thy  conquering  way, 
Till  every  heart  the  Father  own, 

And  all  his  will  obey ! 


1880 


THE  YEAR  OF  THE  LORD 

Praise  to  God  and  thanksgiving ! 
Hearts,  bow  down,  and  voices,  sing  ! 
Praises  to  the  Glorious  One, 
All  his  year  of  wonder  done  ! 

Praise  him  for  his  budding  green, 
April's  resurrection-scene  : 
Praise  him  for  his  shining  hours, 
Starring  all  the  land  with  flowers  : 

Praise  him  for  his  summer  rain, 
Feeding,  day  and  night,  the  grain  : 
Praise  him  for  his  tiny  seed, 
Holding  all  his  world  shall  need  ! 

Praise  him  for  his  garden  root, 
Meadow  grass  and  orchard  fruit : 
Praise  for  hills  and  valleys  broad,  — 
Each  the  Table  of  the  Lord ! 


THE   YEAR  OF   THE  LORD 


Praise  him  now  for  snowy  rest, 
Falling  soft  on  Nature's  breast : 
Praise  for  happy  dreams  of  birth 
Brooding  in  the  quiet  earth  ! 


For  his  year  of  wonder  done, 
Praise  to  the  All- Glorious  One  ! 
Hearts,  bow  down,  and  voices,  sing 
Praise  and  love  and  thanksgiving  ! 

Harvest  Festival,  St.  Paul,  1S82 


THE  NEW  YEAR 

*  Behold,'  —  in  vision  said 
The  Voice  to  John  on  Patmos  — 

*  I  make  all  things  new  ! ' 
Vanish  before  his  view 
The  earth  and  heavens  old ; 
In  splendor  manifold 

New  heavens  and  earth  appear 

To  the  enraptured  seer: 

And  lo  !  descending  from  the  skies, 

Fairer  than  storied  paradise, 

He  saw  the  New  Jerusalem,  — 

Apparelled  as  a  bride 

With  gold  and  precious  gem,  — 

And  heard  a  Voice  that  cried  : 

1  God's  dwelling  is  with  men, 

And  he  will  wipe  away  all  tears, 

And  death  shall  be  no  more,  nor  pain 


70  THE  NEW  YEAR 

Passed  are  the  things  of  former  years  : 

Behold,  I  make  all  things  new  ! 

Write :  for  faithful  are  these  words  and  true. 

So  speaks  to  thee,  O  heart, 

As  the  swift  years  depart 

The  re-creating  Voice. 

Turn  not  in  vain  regret 

To  thy  fond  yesterdays, 

But  rather  forward  set 

Thy  face  toward  the  untrodden  ways. 

Open  thine  eyes  to  see 

The  good  in  store  for  thee,  — 

New  love,  new  thought,  new  service  too 

For  him  who  daily  maketh  thy  life  new. 

Nor  think  thou  aught  is  lost 

Or  left  behind  upon  the  silent  coast 

Of  thy  spent  years  ; 

Give  o'er  thy  faithless  fears. 

"Whate'er  of  real  good  — 

Of  thought,  or  deed,  or  holier  mood  — 

Thy  life  hath  known 

Abideth  still  thine  own, 

And  hath  within  significance 


THE  NEW  YEAR  71 

Of  more  than  Time's  inheritance. 

Thy  good  is  prophecy 

Of  better  still  to  be. 

In  the  future  thou  shalt  find 

How  far  the  Fact  hath  left  behind 

Thy  fondest  Dream ;  how  deeper  than  all 
sense 

Or  thought  of  thine,  thy  life's  sure  Provi- 
dence ! 


1881 


THE  DAY 

Routine  of  duties, 
Commonplace  cares,  — 

Angels  disguised 

Entertained  unawares  ;  — 

Sweet  human  fellowships 

Kindred  and  near, 
Drawing  the  soul  from 

Its  self  atmosphere ; 

The  book's  friendly  company, 

Leading  along 
To  fields  of  new  knowledge 

And  uplands  of  song  ; 

In-shinings  of  Nature, 

Morning's  red  bars, 
Waysides  in  beauty, 

Night  with  its  stars  ; 


THE  DAY  73 

The  nearer  connn  union 

In  silence  apart, 
When  thought  blooms  to  prayer 

And  song  fills  the  heart, 

While  the  things  unseen 

Grow  more  and  more  real, 
And  life  deepens  and  broadens 

Toward  larger  ideal :  — 

How  many  the  blessings 

Each  day  has  to  give 
The  soul  that  is  seeking 

Truly  to  live! 


1885 


THE  HILLS  OF  THE  LORD 

God  ploughed  one  day  with  an  earthquake, 

And  drove  his  furrows  deep  ! 
The  huddling  plains  upstarted, 

The  hills  were  all  a-leap  ! 

But  that  is  the  mountain's  secret, 

Age-hidden  in  their  breast ; 
1  God's  peace  is  everlasting/ 

Are  the  dream- words  of  their  rest. 

He  hath  made  them  the  haunt  of  beauty, 

The  home  elect  of  his  grace  ; 
He  spreadeth  his  mornings  on  them, 

His  sunsets  light  their  face. 

His  thunders  tread  in  music 

Of  footfalls  echoing  long, 
And  carry  majestic  greeting 

Around  the  silent  throng. 


THE  HILLS  OP   THE  LORD        \ 

His  winds  bring  messages  to  them, 
Wild  storm-news  from  the  main  ; 

They  sing  it  down  to  the  valleys 
In  the  love-song  of  the  rain. 

Green  tribes  from  far  come  trooping, 
And  over  the  uplands  flock  ; 

He  weaveth  the  zones  together 
In  robes  for  his  risen  rock. 

They  are  nurseries  for  young  rivers  ; 

Nests  for  his  flying  cloud ; 
Homesteads  for  new-born  races, 

Masterful,  free,  and  proud. 

The  people  of  tired  cities 

Come  up  to  their  shrines  and  pray  ; 
God  freshens  again  within  them, 

As  he  passes  by  all  day. 

And  lo,  I  have  caught  their  secret, 
The  beauty  deeper  than  all, 

This  faith,  —  that  life's  hard  moments, 
When  the  jarring  sorrows  befall, 


76  THE  HILLS  OF   THE  LORD 

Are  but  God  ploughing  his  mountains  ; 

And  the  mountains  yet  shall  be 
The  source  of  his  grace  and  freshness 

And  his  peace  everlasting  to  me. 

Whitefield,  1870 


SUNDAY  ON   THE  HILL-TOP 

Only  ten  miles  from  the  city,  — 
And  how  I  am  lifted  away 

To  the  peace  that  passeth  knowing, 
And  the  light  that  is  not  of  day ! 

All  alone  on  the  hill-top  ! 

Nothing  but  God  and  me, 
And  the  spring-time's  resurrection, 

Far  shinings  of  the  sea, 

The  river's  laugh  in  the  valley, 
Hills  dreaming  of  their  past ; 

And  all  things  silently  opening, 
Opening  into  the  Vast ! 

Eternities  past  and  future 
Seem  clinging  to  all  I  see, 

And  things  immortal  cluster 
Around  my  bended  knee. 


78      SUNDAY  ON  THE  HILL-TOP 

That  pebble  —  is  older  than  Adam  ! 

Secrets  it  hath  to  tell ; 
These  rocks  —  they  cry  out  history, 

Could  I  but  listen  well. 

That  pool  knows  the  ocean-feeling 
Of  storm  and  moon-led  tide  ; 

The  sun  finds  its  East  and  West  therein, 
And  the  stars  find  room  to  glide. 

That  lichen's  crinkled  circle 
Creeps  with  the  Life  Divine, 

Where  the  Holy  Spirit  loitered 
On  its  way  to  this  face  of  mine,  — 

On  its  way  to  the  shining  faces 

Where  angel-lives  are  led, 
And  J  am  the  lichen's  circle 

That  creeps  with  the  tiny  tread. 

I  can  hear  these  violets  chorus 
To  the  sky's  benediction  above :  — 

And  we  all  are  together  lying 
On  the  bosom  of  Infinite  Love. 


SUNDAY  ON   THE  HILL- TOP       79 

I  —  I  am  a  part  of  the  poem, 
Of  its  every  sight  and  sound  ; 

For  my  heart  beats  inward  rhymings 
To  the  Sabbath  that  lies  around. 

Oh,  the  peace  at  the  heart  of  Nature  ! 

Oh,  the  light  that  is  not  of  day ! 
Why  seek  it  afar  forever, 

When  it  cannot  be  lifted  away  ? 

Blue  Hill,  May  21, 1871 


THE  CATHEDRAL 

Shelf  over  shelf  the  mountain  rose  ; 
And,  as  we  climbed,  they  seemed  the  stair 
That  scales  a  minster's  wall  to  seek 
Some  high-hid  cell  of  prayer. 

But  every  stair  was  carpeted 
With  mosses  soft  of  gray  and  green, 
And  gold  and  crimson  arabesques 
Trailed  in  and  out  between. 

Up,  up,  o'er  ferny  pavements  still, 
O'er  dim  mosaics  of  the  wood, 
O'er  rocky  terraces,  we  trod, 
Till  on  the  height  we  stood. 

About  the  ancient  mountain-walls 
The  silent  wildernesses  clung  ; 
In  solemn  frescos,  moving  slow, 
The  clouds  their  shadows  flung. 


THE   CATHEDRAL  81 

Along  the  valley-deeps  below 
The  shimmer  of  a  forest  floor,  — 
A  leafy  brightness,  like  the  sea, 
Wide  twinkling  o'er  and  o'er. 

Niched  in  the  mighty  minster,  we, 
Beneath  the  dome  of  radiant  blue  : 
Cathedral-hush  on  every  side, 
And  worship  breathing  through ! 

There  came  wild  music  on  the  winds, 
The  chanting  of  the  forest  choir, 
Shaken  across  the  ranged  hills 
As  over  a  chorded  lyre. 

Then  pauses  as  for  quiet  prayer, 
And  lulls,  in  which  the  listeners  heard 
Home-voices  speak,  while  faces  neared 
Swifter  than  any  bird. 

Of  Strength  eternal,  by  whose  will 
The  hills  their  steadfast  places  keep, 
Whose  Right  is  like  the  mountains  high, 
Whose  Judgments  are  a  deep,  — 
6 


82  THE  CATHEDRAL 

In  grand  old  Bible  verse  we  spoke, 
And  following  close  like  echoes  sped 
The  poems  best  beloved.     The  words 
Along  the  silence  fled. 

The  Silence,  awful  Living  Word 
Behind  all  sound,  behind  all  thought, 
"Whose  speech  is  Xature-yet-to-be, 
The  Poem  yet  un wrought! 

That  day  it  spake  within  the  soul, 
Through  sense  all  strangely  blent  with  sense  i 
The  vision  took  majestic  rhythm,  — 
We  heard  the  firmament?  ! 

And  listened,  time  and  space  forgot, 
As  flowed  the  lesson  for  the  day,  — 
c  Order  is  Beauty  ;  Law  is  Love ; 
Childlike  his  worlds  obey.' 

And  all  the  heaven  seemed  folding  down 
Above  the  shining  earth's  sweet  face, 
Till  in  our  heart?  they  touched  !     We  felt 
The  thrill  of  their  embrace. 


THE   CATHEDRAL  83 

Then,  in  its  peace,  we  wandered  down 
Our  rocky  staircase  from  the  height  ; 
On  dim  mosaics  of  the  wood 
We  met  the  climbing  Night. 

Sunday  on  *  Bald  Cap,'  September,  1876 


THE  PAST 

For  us  no  Past  ?    Nay,  what  is  present  sweet- 
ness 
But  yesterdays  dissolving  in  to-day  ? 
No  Past  ?    It  flowers  in  every  new  complete- 
ness, 
And  scarce  from  eye  and  ear  can  hide  away. 

These  berries,  mottling  bine  the  rocky  hol- 
lows, 
Still  cluster  with  the  blossom-trick  of  June  ; 
The  cloud-led  shadow  loiters  there  and  fol- 
lows 
O'er  crags  sun-stained  by  centuries  of  noon  ; 
Yon  aged  pine  waves  young  defiant  gesture 
When  hustling  winds  pant  by  in  wild  sea- 
mood  ; 
The  valley's  grace  in  all  its  shining  vesture,  — 
Ages  have  carved  it  from  the  solitude ; 


THE  PAST  85 

Low  sings  the  stream  in  murmurs  faint  re- 
calling 
The  chant  of  floods  the  solitude  once  heard; 
And  this  wide  quiet  on  the  hill-tops  falling 
Made  hush  at  eves  that    listener  never 
stirred. 

And  as  on  us  it  falls,  our  laughter  stilling, 

Dim  echoes  cross  it  of  all  old  delight ! 
The  joy,  along  the  soul's  far  reaches  thrilling 

To  glory  of  the  summer  day  and  night, 
Has  been  inwrought  by  many  a  summer-hour 

Of  past  selves  long  forgot,  —  enrichment 
slow, 
Attuning  mind  and  heart  with  mystic  power 

To  the  fresh  marvel  of  this  sunset's  glow. 
I  think  we  see  our  valley's  brightness  brighter 

For  faces  that  once  brightened  by  our  side  ; 
The  peace  of  the  eternal  mountains  deepens 

At  thought  of  peace  on  faces  that  have  died. 

For  us  no  Past  ?    Nay,  what  is  present  sweet- 
ness? 
Dear  yesterdays  dissolving  in  to-day  1 


86  THE  PAST 

The  Past  —  it  flowers  in  every  new  complete- 
ness 
Of  thought,  faith,  hope  ;  and  so  shall  be  for 
aye. 

Sunset  on  '  Crow  Nest,'  August,  1875 


SUMMER  CHEMISTRY 

Wliat  does  it  take 

A  day  to  make, — 

A  day  at  the  Bear  Camp  Ossipee  ? 

White  clouds  a-sail  in  the  shining  bine, 

Dropping  a  shadow  to  dredge  the  lands ; 

A  mountain-wind,  and  a  marching  storm, 

And  a  sound  in  the  trees  like   waves   on 

sands ; 
A  mist  to  soften  the  shaggy  side 
Of  the  great  green  hill,  till  it  lies  as  dim 
As  the  hills  in  a  childhood  memory  ; 
The  crags  and  the  ledges  silver-chased, 
"Where  yesterday's  rainy  runlets  raced  ; 
The  hack  of  an  upland  pasture  steep, 
"With  delicate  fern-beds  notching  wide 
The  dark  wood-line  where  the  birches  keep 
Candlemas  all  the  summer-tide  ; 
Brown-flashing  across  the  meadow  bright 
The  stream  that  gems  its  malachite ; 
And,  watching  his  valley,  Chocorua  grim, 
And  a  golden  sunset  watching  him  ! 


88  SUMMER  CHEMISTRY 

Add  —  fifty  lives  of  young  and  old, 
Of  tired  and  sad,  of  strong  and  bold, 
And  every  heart  a  deeper  sea 
Than  its  own  owner  dreams  can  be  ; 
Add  eyes  whose  glances  have  the  law 
Of  coursing  planets  in  their  draw  ; 
Add  careless  hands  that  touch  and  part, 
And  hands  that  greet  with  a  heaven's  sense 
Add  little  children  in  their  glee 
Uprunning  to  a  mother's  knee, 
Their  earliest  altar  ;  add  her  heart, 
Their  feeble,  brooding  Providence  :  — 

Add  this  to  that,  and  thou  shalt  see 

"What  goes  to  summer  chemistry, — 

What  the  God  takes, 

Each  time  he  makes 

One  summer-day  at  Ossipee. 

Bear  Camp  River  House,  West  Ossipee, 
August,  1877 


WHERE   DID  IT   GO? 

Where  did  yesterday's  sunset  go, 
When  it  faded  down  the  hills  so  slow. 
And  the  gold  grew  dim,  and  the  purple  light 
Like  an  army  with  banners   passed  from 

sight  ? 
Will  its  flush  go  into  the  golden-rod, 
Its  thrill  to  the  purple  aster's  nod, 
Its  crimson  fleck  the  maple-bough, 
And  the  Autumn-glory  begin  from  now  ? 

Deeper  than  flower-fields  sank  the  glow 
Of  the  silent  pageant  passing  slow. 

It  flushed  all  night  in  many  a  dream, 
It  thrilled  in  the  folding  hush  of  prayer, 
It  glided  into  a  poet's  song, 
It  is  setting  still  in  a  picture  rare  ; 


90  WHERE  DID  IT  GO  ? 

It  changed  by  the  miracle  none  can  see 
To  the  shifting  lights  of  a  symphony  ; 
And  in  resurrections  of  faith  and  hope 
The  glory  died  on  the  shining  slope. 

For  it  left  its  light  on  the  hills  and  seas 
That  rim  a  thousand  memories. 

West  Ossipee,  1877 


RECOGNITION 

Twice  have  I  turned  to  hear  a  tone, 

And  thrice  have  I  seen  a  look, 
That  tell  me  well  the  soul  that  I  love 

Is  to  me  but  a  sealed  book. 

'T  was  only  the  name  of  her  little  child, 
And  a  '  Darling  ! '  one  day  as  she  kissed ; 

But  twice  those  household  words  were  strains 
Out  of  exquisite  music  missed. 

I  remember  the  raptured  hour  she  stood 

With  love-light  haloing  her, 
When  her  lips  were  dim  in  the  crimson  tides 

From  the  deeps  of  joy  astir  : 

And  once,  'mid  the  pain  of  farewell  tears 

For  an  exile  seaward  doomed, 
How  her  form  upreached  like  a  quivering 
stem 

And  a  new  face  suddenly  bloomed : 


92  RECOGNITION 

And  then,  a  day  in  a  shaded  room, 
A  day  in  the  valley  of  Death  ;  — 

She  must  journey  and  wrestle  alone,  —  and 
we, 
We  waited  with  bated  breath, 

Until  the  radiant  marvel  broke 

Of  her  resurrection-face, 
And  the  weary  eyes,  her  victory  won, 

So  peacefully  filled  with  grace. 

Three  days  that  star-look  on  us  beamed, 
And  the  bed  was  a  holy  shrine, 

Where   soft   we   worshipped   the  new-born 
Child 
O'erhung  by  the  Mother's  sign  ! 

Slowly  it  faded,  and  welcome  grew 
For  the  old  dear  eyes  returned,  — 

The  light  of  our  home,  but  not  the  eyes 
Where  the  ans;el-look  had  burned. 


Do  you  wonder  an  awe  enfolds  my  love 
For  the  presence  with  whom  1  dwell,  — 

My  inmost  friend,  but  a  stranger  too, 
Whom  I  know  not  over  well  ? 


RECOGNITION  93 

Her  soul  to  me  is  an  Upper  Land, 

Where  mornings  rise  unseen 
On  pathless  mountain-mysteries 

And  dells  of  hidden  green. 

I  am  so  glad  of  her  gardens  sweet 

Too  sacred  for  me  to  walk, 
So  glad  of  the  sunlit  heights  too  far 

To  echo  our  mingled  talk  ! 

And  I  try  to  climb  and  listen  and  watch  ; 

For  may  be  the  sense  will  grow, 
Till  into  her  loneliness  I  may  press 

And  all  of  her  sweetness  know ! 


A  marvel !     But  what  if  there  be  a  truth 

Passing  in  wonder  this  ? 
Can  she  be  to  herself  as  dim,  unknown, 

And  the  best  of  her  nature  miss  ? 

Can  there  be  in  us  all  those  heights  of  will 
And  shadowy  deeps  of  thought, 

A  land  in  the  heart  of  each  one's  life 
With  self-surprises  fraught,  — 


94  RECOGNITION 

Whither,  in  sudden  mystical  hours 
When  the  conscious  self  is  forgot, 

We  are  rapt  as  into  an  upper  self, 
And  stand  in  the  light  of  a  spot, 

Where  are  born  those  exquisite  tones  that 
stray- 
To  startle  the  common  days, 

And  the  look  that  heralds  our  angel-smile 
Dawns  into  our  eyes  and  ways  ? 

Only  a  minute,  —  and  then  we  are  back 

In  the  meadows  far  below, 
Where  the  life- winds  sweep  and   the  life- 
streams  run, 

And  nought  of  their  source  we  know ! 

I  verily  think  that  she  I  love 

Would  hardly  a  meaning  trace, 
Should  I  speak  to  her  of  that  twice-heard 
tone 

And  the  thrice-illumined  face. 


1872 


IX  A  LOOK 

All  the  Morning  in  a  face,  — 
Freshness  of  all  happy  space  ! 
Sense  of  sunrise  in  a  sky 
Serious  still  with  stars  gone  by ; 
Sense  of  song  in  waking  woods, 
Winds  a-laugh  in  solitudes, 
Dawn  surprising  dewy  fields, 
Springing  sounds  as  slumber  yields, 
Breaths  of  prayer,  the  rush  of  wings, 
Morning,  deep  with  happy  things  ! 


Summer  Twilight  in  a  face  ! 
Evening  shadows  stilling  space  ; 
Two  stars  in  a  silent  sky  ; 
After- calm,  —  a  sun  gone  by ; 
"Wood-paths  darkening,  bird-song  closing, 
Flowers  on  their  stems  reposing  ; 


96  IN  A  LOOK 

Widening,  widening,  from  the  grass 
Rhythmic  tides  of  music  pass,  — 
Pass  within,  and  hush  the  streams, 
Whose  thought-babble  dies  in  dreams  I 


These  before  me  seem  to  rise, 
When  they  look  me  in  the  eyes. 


1885 


THE  FIFTIETH  ANNIVERSARY 

W.    H.    F. 

Fifty  times  the  years  have  turned, 
Since  the  heart  within  him  burned 
"With  its  wistfulness  to  be 
An  apostle  sent  of  thee. 

Closely  in  his  Master's  tread 
Still  to  follow,  till  he  read 
Tone  of  voice  and  look  of  face, 
Print  of  wound  and  sign  of  grace. 

Reading  there  for  fifty  years, 
Pressing  after,  till  the  tears 
And  the  smiles  would  come  and  go 
At  the  self-same  joy  and  woe, — 

Sharing  with  him  shouts  of  '  Mad  !' 
When  the  bold  front  to  the  bad 
Bent  to  pluck  the  ' little  ones' 
From  the  feet  of  fellow-sons,  — 
7 


93     THE  FIFTIETH  ANNIVERSARY 

Sharing  in  his  inner  peace, 
Sharing  all  but  his  release,  — 
He  is  with  us  while  the  chimes 
Ring  our  blessing  fifty  times. 

Listening  boys  across  the  field 
Hear,  and  hope  they  may  not  yield  : 
Are  they  listening  from  the  air,  — 
Boys  who  started  with  him  there  ? 

Philadelphia,  1S75 


THE  TEACHER 

G.    R.   N. 

A  LIGHT  upon  the  harvest-field, 
A  '  Well-done  ! '  in  the  air  : 

1  Rest- Angel,  only  weary  yield  ! ' 
Rose  up  his  eager  prayer. 

Again  in  work  went  by  the  day, 
Till  working  hands  grew  thin  ; 

Once  more  the  restful  shining  lay,  — 
The  old  man  entered  in. 

A  teacher  he,  in  white-haired  youth  ; 

The  body's  cloister,  old,  — 
The  spirit  growing  young  with  Truth 

Through  birthdays  manifold. 

A  teacher  he  of  oracles, 
And  one  his  life  did  sing  : 

TJie  field  lies  always  Harvest-white, 
If  inly  lies  the  Spring. 

Cambridge,  1S68 


THE  CLIFF  AT  NEWPORT 

I  walk  the  Cliff,  in  earlier  days  oft  trod 
By  one  whose  advent  brought  new  life  to 

men ; 
A  prophet  of  the  soul,  speaking  again 
To  earth-bound  hearts  of  the  deep  things  of 

God. 
Below,  the  passionate  sea  still  beats  in  vain, 
And  white   sails  gleam  along  the  horizon 

broad  ; 
The  same  sky  bends  above  —  beneath,  the 

sod 
As  then  is  freshened  by  the  Summer  rain. 
But,  interfused  with  all,  there  shines  to-day 
A  beauty  born  not  of  the  earth  or  skies, 
Making  twice  fair  what  was  so  fair  before  : 
'T  is  that  a  noble  Soul  has  passed  this  way, 
Leaving  a  holy  memory  to  rise 
And  speak  to  thought  and  feeling  evermore. 

1884 


IN   SLEEP 

L.    N.    R. 

*  He  giveth  his  beloved  (in)  sleep.' 

Not  in  our  waking  hours  alone 
His  constancy  and  care  are  known  ; 
But  locked  in  slumber  fast  and  deep 
He  giveth  to  us  while  we  sleep. 

What  giveth  He  ?     From  toil  release, 
Quiet  from  God,  night's  starlit  peace  ; 
Till  with  the  coming  of  the  morn 
We  greet  the  day,  like  it  new-born. 

And  pondering  this  mystery, 
There  came  a  larger  truth  to  me,  — 
How  in  the  sleep  that  we  call  death 
He  sleepeth  not  nor  slumbereth, 

But  still  sustains  the  silent  soul 
Until  the  shadows  backward  roll, 
And  with  the  passing  of  the  night 
It  wakens  in  immortal  light! 


102  IN  SLEEP 

What  giveth  He  1    No  more  again 
To  know  the  touch  of  mortal  pain ; 
All  weakness  past,  each  fetter  riven,  — 
For  earth  the  larger  life  of  heaven  ! 

Dear  friend,  as  o'er  thy  pallid  face 
The  tall  white  lilies  breathed  their  peace, 
And  stillness  like  a  solitude 
Enwrapt  the  tearful  multitude, 

How  sweetly  on  that  sea  of  calm 
Floated  the  music  of  the  psalm,  — 
The  Spirit's  voice  upon  the  deep,  — 
'  He  giveth  his  beloved  sleep  ! ' 

Once  more  the  sun  with  lavish  hand 
Pours  lengthening  day  along  the  land  ; 
But  not  with  spring-time  bloom  and  bird 
Thy  smile  returns,  thy  voice  is  heard  : 

Yet  still  we  say  the  old-time  words 
'  In  life,  in  death,  we  are  the  Lord's  : ' 
And  trust  thee  to  Ids  love  to  keep 
Who  giveth  to  his  own  in  sleep. 

March  16,  1877 


MINISTRY 

E.   A.    B. 

Just    on  the  threshold   of   threescore-and- 
ten  — 
An  upward  pathway,   shining   more  and 

more  — 
She  heard  the  call,  and  passed  within  the 
door 
Whence  none  that  enters  ever  comes  again. 
Henceforth  will  Want  await  her  step  in  vain, 
Wise  Charity  will  have  a  lessened  store  : 
The  beatings  of  a  faithful  heart  are  o'er, 
And  struggling  Truth  has  lost  a  loyal  brain. 
Ah,  foolish  plaint!      Hath   God   no   other 
sphere 
For  virtue's  use,  and  love,  and  loyalty, 
That  they  should  perish  with  the  body's 
breath  ? 
0  noble  Friend,  thy  life's  long  service  here 
Thou  crownest  now  with  its  best  ministry, 
And  quickenest  faith  beside  the  door  of 
death  ! 

November,  1879 


THE   MINISTER'S  JOURNEY 

Not  to  the  lanes  of  England, 
Cathedral-aisles  of  France, 

Or  up  the  mountain-hollows 
Where  Alpine  torrents  glance ; 

Not  in  the  storied  cities 
And  old  highways  of  life, 

Where  shadowy  generations 
Have  passed  in  song  and  strife  ; 

Where  Raphael  hath  painted, 

Or  Socrates  was  born, 
Or  prophets  once  were  cradled 

In  Nazareths  of  scorn  ;  — 

But  on  more  wonderful  journeys 
Than  any  the  pilgrims  know, 

Our  traveller  has  been  roving,  — 
The  book  in  his  heart  can  show. 


THE  MINISTER'S  JOURNEY     105 

He  has  voyaged  with  the  Captains 
Who  sail  the  seas  of  thought, 

Daring  with  them  the  tempest, 
Hailing  with  them  the  port. 

And  many  a  dreamer's  island 

Has  added  to  his  lore 
The  hope  that  made  it  Patmos,  — 

One  heavenly  vision  more. 

In  lands  men  deemed  unholy 

He  gleaned  from  every  clod 
Some  treasure-trove,  revealing 

Horizons  new  of  God. 

Till  Heathenesse  grew  homelike  ; 

While  the  traveller's  tale  was  still 
Of  a  Ceaseless  Care,  whose  presence 

Out-worketh  good  from  ill. 

And  unto  sacred  places, 

The  Palestines  within, 
By  pathways  of  the  Spirit, 

Our  traveller  hath  been. 


106        THE  MINISTER'S  JOURNEY 

Along  the  silent  beaches 

That  men  call  Birth  and  Death, 
Rimming  our  fields  of  summer, 

Giving  us  ocean-breath, 

He  paces  as  a  watcher 

Watching  the  tidal  sweep ; 

And  his  greeting  is  full  of  music 
Caught  from  the  central  deep. 

He  knows  the  founts  of  laughter  ; 

"Where  psalms  in  mothers  rise  ; 
How  purpose  dawns  in  manhood, 

And  love  in  maiden  eyes. 

In  still  lanes  of  confession, 
In  solemn  aisles  of  prayer, 

On  Alps  of  high  endeavor,  — 
We  meet  him  everywhere  ! 

The  others  see  but  Europe, 
And  go  as  feet  may  fare  ; 

Our  pilgrim,  still  out-sailing, 
Sees  many  an  Outre-Mer! 

To  J.  W.  C,  December  19,  1S34 


IN  TWOS 

Somewhere  in  the  world  there  hide 
Garden-gates  that  no  one  sees 
Save  they  come  in  happy  twos,  — 
Not  in  ones,  nor  yet  in  threes. 

But  from  every  maiden's  door 
Leads  a  pathway  straight  and  true  ; 
Map  and  survey  know  it  not,  — 
He  who  finds,  finds  room  for  two  I 

Then  they  see  the  garden-gates ! 
Never  skies  so  blue  as  theirs, 
Never  flowers  so  many-sweet, 
As  for  those  who  come  in  pairs. 

Round  and  round  the  alleys  wind  : 
Now  a  cradle  bars  the  way, 
Now  a  little  mound,  behind,  — 
So  the  two  go  through  the  day. 


108  IN  TWOS 

When  no  nook  in  all  the  lanes 
But  has  heard  a  song  or  sigh, 
Lo  !  another  garden-gate 
Opens  as  the  two  go  by. 

In  they  wander,  knowing  not ; 
'  Five  and  Twenty ! '  fills  the  air 
With  a  silvery  echo  low, 
All  about  the  startled  pair. 

Happier  yet  these  garden-walks  : 
Closer,  heart  to  heart,  they  lean  ; 
Stiller,  softer,  falls  the  light ; 
Few  the  twos,  and  far  between. 

Till,  at  last,  as  on  they  pa?s 
Down  the  paths  so  well  they  know, 
Once  again  at  hidden  gates 
Stand  the  two  :  they  enter  slow. 

Golden  Gates  of  '  Fifty  Years/ 
May  our  two  your  latchet  press  ! 
Garden  of  the  Sunset  Land, 
Hold  their  dearest  happiness  i 


IN  TWOS  109 

Then  a  quiet  walk  again : 
Then  a  wicket  in  the  wall: 
Then  one,  stepping  on  alone,  — 
Then  two  at  the  Heart  of  All  I 

December  22, 1879 


POEM  AND  DOGMA 

*T  was  Schliemann  back  from  Troy, 
"With  relics  bronze  and  gold  : 

Where  other  eyes  saw  violets, 
He  saw  the  city  old. 

And,  fondling  a  brown  skull,  — 
'  My  learned  friend,'  said  he, 

'  Tells  me  that  this  a  maiden's  was, 
In  Troy  beyond  the  sea  ; 

And  from  these  angles  here 

Of  brow  and  cheek-bone  fine, 
He  judges  that  my  maiden  was 
A  creature  quite  divine. 

1  Ah,  yes  ! '  he  added  low, 

'  Virchow  was  right  just  there, 

For  all  the  maidens  of  old  Troy 
Were  beautiful  and  rare.' 


POEM  AND  DOGMA  111 


By  summer  chance  we  met, 
And  sat  in  chatting  mood : 

Said  one,  '  How  noble  Jesus'  word 
In  that  Beatitude!' 


1  Ah,  yes ! '  chimed  in  a  friend, 

'  You  speak  it  truly  there, 
For  all  that  Jesus  said  or  was, 
Was  right  beyond  compare.' 

*  And  Paul,'  one  said,  '  was  wrong; 

How  far  from  light  he  trod  ! '  — 

*  But  then,  you  know,'  my  lady  chirped, 

<  'T  is  all  the  Word  of  God.' 


The  artlessness  the  same ! 

And  why  should  tears  half-start 
Over  the  fabled  beauty  gone, — 

Poem  of  German  heart  ; 

While,  with  half-angry  thought, 

I  smile  away  the  creed 
Of  fabled  beauty  they  would  fain 

Persuade  me  that  I  need  ? 


112  POEM  AND  DOGMA 

Angry !  who  know  their  creeds 
Were  poems,  too,  —  that  died  ; 

That  all  the  world's  old  dogmas  are 
Its  poems  petrified. 

1881 


THE   HALO 

'One  London  dealer  in  birds  received,  when  the  fashion 
was  at  its  height,  a  single  consignment  of  thirty-two  thou- 
sand dead  humming-birds ;  and  another  received  at  on» 
time  thirty  thousand  aquatic  birds,  and  three  hundred  thou- 
sand pairs  of  wings.' 

Think  what  a  price  to  pay, 
Faces  so  bright  and  gay, 
Just  for  a  hat ! 
Flowers  unvisited,  mornings  unsung, 
Sea-ranges    bare    of    the   wings   that    o'er- 
swung,  — 
Bared  just  for  that! 

Think  of  the  others,  too, 
Others  and  mothers,  too, 
Bright-Eyes  in  hat ! 
Hear  you  no  mother-groan  floating  in  air, 
Hear   you   no   little   moan,  —  birdlings'  de- 
spair, — 
Somewhere,  for  that  ? 
8 


114  THE  HALO 

Caught  'mid  some  mother- work, 
Torn  by  a  hunter  Turk, 
Just  for  your  hat ! 
Plenty  of  mother-heart  yet  in  the  world: 
All  the  more  wings  to  tear,  carefully  twirled  ! 
Women  want  that  ? 

Oh,  but  the  shame  of  it, 
Oh,  but  the  blame  of  it,  — 
Price  of  a  hat ! 
Just  for  a  jauntiness  brightening  the  street ! 
This  is  your  halo,  0  faces  so  sweet,  — 
Death :  and  for  that  I 

1885 


NOT  ALL   THERE 

'  The  innocents,  of  whom  the  Scotch  say,  "  They  are  hot 
all'tJiere." ' 

Something  short  in  the  making,  — 

Something  lost  on  the  way, 
As  the  little  Soul  was  taking 

Its  path  to  the  break  of  Day  ! 

Only  his  mood  or  passion, 

But  it  twitched  an  atom  lack  ; 

And  she,  for  her  gods  of  fashion, 
Filched  from  the  pilgrim's  pack. 

The  Father  did  not  mean  it, 

The  Mother  did  not  know, 
No  human  eye  had  seen  it,  — 

But  the  little  Soul  needed  it  so  ! 


Through  the  street  there  passed  a  crip j tie, 
Maimed  from  before  its  birth  ; 

On  the  strange  face  gleamed  a  ripple, 
Like  a  half-dawn  on  the  earth. 


116  NOT  ALL    THERE 

It  passed,  —  and  it  awed  the  city, 
As  one  not  alive  nor  dead  : 

Eyes  looked  and  brimmed  with  pity, 
'  He  is  not  all  there/  they  said. 

Not  all !  for  part  is  behind  it, 
Lying  dropt  on  the  way  : 

That  part  —  conld  two  but  find  it, 
How  welcome  the  end  of  Day  ! 

18S3 


LET   IT  BEGIN   HERE 

Captain  Parker's  words  on  Lexington  Green :  '  Don't 
fire,  unless  you  are  fired  on;  but  if  they  want  a  war,  let  it 
begin  here ! ' 

The  April  thrills  along  the  hills, 

The  violets  wake  below, 
But  never  to  the  thrill  they  knew 

A  hundred  years  ago, 
What  day  the  calls  from  pasture-walls 

In  echoing  signals  ran, 
And  swift  replied  the  country-side 

To  what  they  here  began. 

'  Let  it  begin  ! '  a  Voice  within 

The  waiting  farmers  spake,  — 
His  voice  in  whom  the  Aprils  bloom, 

In  wThom  the  Nations  wake  ! 
Old  lands  had  yearned,  old  dreamers  burned 

Fair  Freedom's  day  to  win, 
And  still  it  fled,  —  the  farmers  said, 

'  Now  let  it  here  besin  ! ' 


118  LET  IT  BEGIN  HERE 

And  at  the  word  a  Nation  stirred ! 

Without  or  king  or  caste, 
Serene  and  strong  to  right  their  wrong, 

The  People  rose  at  last ! 
All  quick  to  feel  the  common  weal, 

The  many  in  the  one, 
Heart  pledged  to  heart  no  more  to  part : 

And  this  was  here  begun ! 

For  the  Lexington  Centennial,  April  19,  1875 


AUNT   PHILLIS'3    GUEST 

St.  Helena  Island  in  1S63 

I  was  young  and  '  Harry  '  was  strong, 

The  summer  was  bursting  from   sky  and 
plain, 

Thrilling  our  blood  as  we  bounded  along,  — 
When  a  picture  flashed,  and  I  dropped  the 


A  black  sea-creek,  with  snaky  run 

Slipping    through  low  green    leagues   of 
sedge  ; 

An  ebbing  tide,  and  a  setting  sun  ; 
A  hut  and  a  woman  by  the  edge. 

Her  back  was  bent  and  her  wool  was  gray; 

The  wrinkles  lay  close  on  the  withered  face; 
Children  were  buried  and  sold  away,  — 

The  Freedom  had  come  to  the  last  of  a  race ! 


120  AUNT  PHILL/S'S   GUEST 

She  lived  from  a  neighbor's  hominy-pot  ; 
And  praised  the  Lord,  if  '  the  pain '  passed 
by; 
From  the  earthen  floor  the  smoke  curled  out 
Through  shingles  patched  with  the  bright 
blue  sky. 

<  Aunt  Phillis,  you  live  here  all  alone  1 ' 
I  asked,  and  pitied  the  gray  old  head  ; 

Sure  as  a  child,  in  quiet  tone, 
'  Me  and  Jesus,  Massa,'  she  said. 

I  started,  for  all  the  place  was  aglow 
With  a  presence  I  had  not  seen  before  ; 

The  air  was  full  of  a  music  low, 

And  the  Guest  Divine  stood  at  the  door ! 

Ay,  it  was  true  that  the  Lord  of  Life, 
Who  seeth  the  widow  give  her  mite, 

Had  watched  this  slave  in  her  weary  strife, 
And  shown  himself  to  her  longing  sight. 

The  hut  and  the  dirt,  the  rags  and  the  skin, 
The  grovelling  want  and  the    darkened 
mind,  — 


AUNT  PHILLIS'S   GUEST         121 

I  looked  on  this ;  but  the  Lord,  within  : 
I  would  what  he  saw  was  in  me  to  tind ! 

A  childlike  soul,  whose  faith  had  force 
To  see  what  the  angels  see  in  bliss  : 

She  lived,  and  the  Lord  lived  ;  so,  of  course, 
They  lived  together,  —  she  knew  but  this. 

And  the  life  that  I  had  almost  despised 
As  something  to  pity,  so  poor  and  low, 

Had  already  borne  fruit  that  the  Lord  so 
prized 
He  loved  to  come  near  and  see  it  grow. 

No  sorrow  for  her  that  the  life  was  done  : 
A  few  days  more  of  the  hut's  unrest, 

A  little  while  longer  to  sit  in  the  sun,  — 
Then  —  He  would  be  host,  and  she  would 
be  guest ! 

And  up  above,  if  an  angel  of  light 

Should  stop  on  his  errand  of  love  some  day 

To  ask, ■  Who  lives  in  the  mansion  bright  ? ' 
1  Me  and  Jesus,'  Aunt  Phillis  will  say. 


122         AUNT  PHILLIS'S    GUEST 

A  fancy,  foolish  and  fond,  does  it  seem  1 
And  things  are  not  as  Annt  Phillises  dream  1 

Friend,  surely  so  ! 

For  this  I  know,  — 
That  our  faiths  are  foolish  by  falling  below, 
Not  coming  above,  what  God  will  show  ; 
That  his  commonest  thing  hides  a  wonder 

vast, 
To  whose  beauty  our  eyes  have  never  passed  ; 
That  his  fact  in  the  present,  or  in  the  to-be, 
Outshines  the  best  that  we  think  we  see. 


THE  NEGRO  BURYING-GROUND 

St.  Helena  Island  in  1863 

'Mid  the  sunny  flat  of  the  cotton-field 
Lies  an  acre  of  forest-tangle  still ; 

A  cloister  dim,  where  the  gray  moss  waves 
And  the  live-oaks  lock  their  arms  at  will. 

Here  in  the  shadows  the  slaves  would  hide 
As  they  dropped  the  hoe  at  death's  release, 

And  leave  no  sign  but  a  sinking  mound 
To  show  where  they  passed  on  their  way 
to  peace. 

This  was  the  Gate  —  there  was  none  but 
this  — 

To  a  Happy  Land  where  men  were  men ; 
And  the  dusky  fugitives,  one  by  one, 

Stole  in  from  the  bruise  of  the  prison-pen. 

When,  lo!  in  the  distance  boomed  the  guns, 
The  bruise  was  over,  and  '  Massa'  had  fled  ! 

But  Death  is  the  '  Massa  '  that  never  flees, 
So  still  to  the  oaks  they  bore  the  dead. 


124      THE  NEGRO  BURYING-GROUNU 

'T  was  at  set  of  sun  ;  a  tattered  troop 
Of  children  circled  a  little  grave, 

Chanting  an  anthem  rich  in  its  peace 
As  ever  pealed  in  cathedral-nave,  — 

The  A,  B,  C,  that  the  lips  below 

Had  learnt  with  them  in  the  school   to 
shout. 
Over  and  over  they  sung  it  slow, 

Crooning  a  mystic  meaning  out. 

A,  B,  C,  D,  E,  F,  G,  — 

Down  solemn  alphabets  they  swept : 
The  oaks  leaned  close,  the  moss  swung  low,  — 
What    strange  new  sound    among    them 
crept  ? 

The  holiest  hymn  that  the  children  knew  ! 
'T  was  dreams  come  real,  and  heaven  come 
near  ; 
'T  was  light,  and  liberty,  and  joy, 
And  '  white-folks'-sense/  —  and  God  right 
here  ! 


THE  NEGRO  BURYING-GROUXD     L26 

Over  and  over;  they  dimly  felt 

This  was  the  charm  could  make  black  white, 
This  was  the  secret  of  '  Massa'a '  pride, 

And  this,  unknown,  made  the  negro's  night. 

What  could  they  sing  of  braver  cheer 
To  speed  on  her  unseen  way  the  friend  ? 

The  children  were  facing  the  mystery  Death 
With  the  deepest  prayer  that  their  hearts 
could  send. 


Children,  too,  and  the  mysteries  last  ! 

We  are  but  comrades  with  them  there,  — 
Stammering  over  a  meaning  vast, 

Crooning  our  guesses  of  how  and  where. 

But  the  children  were  right  with  their  A,  B,  C  ; 

In  our  stammering  guess  so  much  we  say  ! 
The  singers  were  happy,  and  so  are  we  : 

Deep  as  our  wants  are  the  prayers  we  pray. 


GETTYSBURG  IN   1885 

After  a  visit  to  the  Panorama 

One  step  from  the  busy  street,  and  there, 
With  the  summer  hills  around, 

In  the  heart  of  a  summer  day  it  lie.-*,  — 
A  Battle  without  a  sound. 

Whatever  of  battle  the  eyes  may  see  — 

The  sweep  of  men  to  death, 
The  dash  of  horse,  and  the  rush  of  gun. 

The  musket's  fiery  breath  ; 

The  massing  clouds  of  the  cannon-smoke, 

The  horror  of  bursting  shell, 
The  wreck  of  wheel  and  caisson, 

The  surgeon's  mimic  hell ; 

The  uptossed  arms  and  the  ashen  cheek, 
The  droop  of  the  shattered  limb, 

The  men  by  the  blood-pools  in  the  grass, 
The  bodies  stiff  and  grim. 


GETTYSBURG  IN  1SS5  127 

We  see  it  all,  and  we  hear  no  sound  ! 

We  listen  for  roar  and  boom, 
For  the  crack  and  the  ping  and  the  bullet's 
thud  :  — 

A  stillness  like  the  tomb  ! 

No  rattle  to  wheel,  no  clatter  to  hoof, 

No  bugle-call  or  cry, 
No  fierce  hurrah  along  that  line 

Where  the  columns  press  to  die ; 

Those  sullen  prisoners  give  no  oath  ; 

The  face  in  the  grass  no  groan  ; 
Its  ■  Good-bye  ! '  reached  a  thousand  miles, 

But  we  catch  never  a  tone. 

Ah,  if  we  could  add  sound  to  sight, 
And  then  could  paint  the  strain 

And  the  splendor  in  the  soldier's  heart, 
Breasting  death's  hurricane, 

And  the  flashing  signals  of  his  thought 

To  homes  that  signal  back, 
And  the  woman's  face  and  the  climbing  child 

That  lie  in  the  bullet's  track  ; 


128  GETTYSBURG  IN  1885 

And   the  breathless  pause,  each  pulse-beat 
hushed, 

Of  a  watching  continent ; 
And  the  sense  of  a  nation's  fate  at  stake 

In  the  awful  tournament ; 

And  the  upturned  brows  of  a  million  slaves 

Beading  the  face  of  God 
For  the  word  that  would  lift  them  into  Men, 

Or  doom  them  back  to  the  Clod,  — 

Could  we  rim  all  this  in  those  summer  hills 

And  add  to  what  eyes  see, 
In  the  cloister  quaint  by  the  city  street 

Then  '  Gettysburg '  would  be  ! 


And  yet,  as  I  hark,  the  soundlessness 
Seems  song  of  the  war's  release, 

And  the  beauty  to  hint,  'mid  Battle's  woe, 
The  Battle's  after-peace. 


THE  RIGHT   GOES   MARCHING  ON 

For  Decoration  Day 

One  moment  on  the  scaffold,  and  he  left  it 

Holy  Ground ! 
Three    hundred    thousand    heroes  now   lie 

guarding  it  around, 
And  reverent  hearts  are  pilgrim  still  to  many 

a  sacred  mound,  — 
And  the  Right  goes  marching  on  ! 

God   had  counted  up  the   slave-graves,  and 
heard  the  black  man's  moan, 

Till  at  last  his  leaping  thunder  shook  the 
awful  Judgment-Throne,  — 

*  For  each  lash  a  cannon-crash  !     For  each 
cry  a  battle-groan  ! '  — 
And  the  Right  goes  marching  on. 

The  Hands  wherein  the  sparrow  falls,  that 

beckon  to  the  star, 
Are   Hands  that  harness  unseen   dooms  to 

Wrong's  triumphal  car, 
9 


130     THE   RIGHT  GOES  MARCHING  ON 

And  the  steeds  untiring'  draw  the  nations 
trembling  to  the  Bar,  — 
And  the  Right  goes  marching  on  ! 

Then,  if  perchance  a  nation's  Soul  from  out 

her  shame  shall  rise, 
And  light  of  Justice  kindle  fresh  within  her 

chastened  eyes, 
The  God  who  dooms  shall  save  her  by  the 

pain  that  purifies,  — 
And  the  Right  goes  marching  on  ! 

Lo,  the  flowers  are  all  a-blossom,  and   the 
grasses  are  a-wave 

Where  the  bodies  of  our  hero  dead  are  sleep- 
ing in  the  grave  : 

So  shall  beauty  crown  salvation  through  the 
Hands  so  strong  to  save,  — 
And  the  Right  goes  marching  on  ! 

18S4 


OUR  COUNTRY 

*  0  Beautiful,  my  Country  ! ' 

Be  thine  a  nobler  care 
Than  all  thy  wealth  of  commerce, 

Thy  harvests  waving  fair : 
Be  it  thy  pride  to  lift  up 

The  manhood  of  the  poor  ; 
Be  thou  to  the  oppressed 

Fair  Freedom's  open  door ! 

For  thee  our  fathers  suffered, 

For  thee  they  toiled  and  prayed  ; 
Upon  thy  holy  altar 

Their  willing  lives  they  laid. 
Thou  hast  no  common  birthright, 

Grand  memories  on  thee  shine  ; 
The  blood  of  pilgrim  nations 

Comminoled  flows  in  thine. 


132  OUR  COUNTRY 

0  Beautiful,  our  Country  ! 

Round  thee  in  love  we  draw ; 
Thine  is  the  grace  of  Freedom, 

The  majesty  of  Law. 
Be  Righteousness  thy  sceptre, 

Justice  thy  diadem  ; 
And  on  thy  shining  forehead 

Be  Peace  the  crowning  gem ! 

1884 


INDEX   OF  FIEST   LINES 


Page 

A  light  upon  the  harvest-field 99 

All  hidden  lie  the  future  ways 54 

All  the  Morning  in  a  face 95 

And  are  the  children  prophets,  then    ....  60 

A  silvery  tide,  called  «  Sunny  Side '      ....  51 

4  Behold,'  —  in  vision  said 69 

Clear  in  memory's  silent  reaches 37 

Fairer  grows  the  earth  each  morning  ....  25 

Father,  to  thee  we  look  in  all  our  sorrow     .     .  39 

Fifty  times  the  years  have  turned 97 

For  us  no  Past  ?  Nay,  what  is  present  sweetness  84 

From  heart  to  heart,  from  creed  to  creed     .    .  29 

God  ploughed  one  day  with  an  earthquake  .     .71 

Go  not,  my  soul,  in  search  of  him 19 

He  hides  within  the  lily 15 


134  INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES 

Page 

I  cannot  think  of  them  as  dead 35 

I  hear  it  often  in  the  dark 11 

I  little  see,  I  little  know 23 

Immortal  by  their  deed  and  word      ....  65 

I  walk  the  Cliff,  in  earlier  days  oft  trod      .     .  100 

I  was  young  and  '  Harry '  was  strong     .     .     .  119 

Just  on  the  threshold  of  threescore-and-ten     .  103 

Many  things  in  life  there  are 49 

'Mid  the  sunny  flat  of  the  cotton-field    ...  123 

Not  always  on  the  mount  may  we     ...     .  45 

Not  in  our  waking  hours  alone 101 

Not  to  the  lanes  of  England 104 

'  O  Beautiful,  my  Country ! ' 131 

O  Heart  of  all  the  shining  day 33 

O  Name,  all  other  names  above 31 

One  moment  on  the  scaffold,  and  he  left  it 

Holy  Ground 129 

One  step  from  the  busy  street,  and  there    .     .  126 

One  thought  I  have,  my  ample  creed      ...  9 

Only  ten  miles  from  the  city 77 

O  thou,  in  all  thy  might  so  far 13 

O  thou  who  art  of  all  that  is 41 

Praise  to  God  and  thanksgiving 67 

Routine  of  duties 72 


INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES 


135 


Shelf  over  shelf  the  mountain  rose 
Something  short  in  the  making  . 
Somewhere  in  the  world  there  hide 
Still  the  angels  sing  on  high      .     . 


The  April  thrills  along  the  hills  .  . 
The  church-bells  for  service  are  ringing 
The  Lord  is  in  his  Holy  Place  .  .  . 
The  rose  is  queen  among  the  flowers 
Think  what  a  price  to  pay  .... 
To-day  be  joy  in  every  heart  .  .  . 
T  was  Schlieroann  back  from  Troy  . 
Twice  have  I  turned  to  hear  a  tone    . 


We  pray  no  more,  made  lowly  wise  . 

What  does  it  take 

When  courage  fails,  and  faith  bums  lo" 
When  the  night  is  still  and  far      .     . 
Where  did  yesterday's  sunset  go   .     . 
Who  does  not  feel  how  weak    .     .     . 


Paoe 

80 

115 

107 

55 

117 
57 
17 
53 

113 
63 

110 
91 

27 
87 
47 
21 
89 
43 


THE  THOUGHT   OF   GOD 

IN 

HYMNS    AND    POEMS 
SeccntJ  Scries 


By  the  Same  Authors. 

The  Thought  of 

God  in  Hymns 

and    Poems. 

First 

Series. 

l6mo.     Cloth, 

$1.00; 

paper, 

50  cents. 

THE 

THOUGHT    OF    GOD 

IN 

HYMNS    AND    POEMS 

SecontJ  Series 


BY 

FREDERICK   L.   HOSMER 

AND 

WILLIAM   C.  GANNETT 


BOSTON 

ROBERTS    BROTHERS 

1894 


Copyright,  1894 

BY    FREDERICK    L.    HOSMER   AND 
WILLIAM   C   GANNETT 


SSmbergttg  ^regs 
John  Wilson  and  Son,  Cambridge 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 

One  Law,  One  Life,  One  Love    .    .     .  F.  L.  H.  .  .  9 
'  Who  Wert   and    Art   and    Evermore 

Shalt  Be ' W.  C.  G.  .  .  11 

In  Lonely  Vigil F.  L.  H.  .  .  13 

Edelweiss  :  TraJislation "  .  .  14 

Edelweiss "  .  .  15 

The  Crowning  Day W.  C.  G.  .  .  16 

The  Day  of  God F.  L.  H.  .  .  18 

The  Inward  Witness "  .  .  20 

Thou  who  art  Strong  to  Heal     ...           "  22 

The  Heavenly  Helper "  .  .  24 

Church-Bells W.  C.  G.  .  .  26 

Sun-Gleams n  og 

The  Grace  of  God F.  L.  H.  .  .  30 

In  Littles W.  C.  G.  .  .  31 

With  Self  Dissatisfied  ......  F  L.  H.  33 

Behind  and  Before "  .35 

'  Think  on  These  Things ' .     .                          "  .  .  38 

The  Cross  on  the  Flag "  .  .  40 


VI  CONTENTS 

PAGE 

From  Generation  to  Generation          .  F.  L.  H.    .  .  42 

Holy  Places "          .  .  44 

The  Building  of  the  Temple       .     .     .  W.  C.  G.  .  .  46 

The  Word  of  God "         .  .  48 

Unto  Him  All  Live F.  L.  H.    .  .  50 

Easter  Morn "          .  .  51 

Risen "          .  .  52 

What  will  the  Violets  be W.  C.  G.  .  .  54 

Over  the  Land  in  Glory F.  L.  H.    .  .  55 

Easter  Festival "          .  .  57 

Discipleship     ........  "          .  .  59 

The  Man  of  Nazareth "          .  .  62 

Mary's  Manger-Song W.  C.  G.  .  .  64 

Whittier F.  L.  H.    .  .  66 

Whittier W.  C.  G.  .  .  67 

'Nothing  but  a  Poet ' "         .  .  68 

Rembrandt F.  L.  H.    .  .  70 

The  Sower "          .  .  72 

John  C.  Learned "          .  .  75 

'  Incarnate  Cheer' W.  C.  G.  .  .  76 

Thirty  Thousand "         .  .  77 

Golden  Wedding "         .  .  79 

Twilight "         .  .  82 

'  Death  as  Friend ' "         .  .  84 

A.  L.  G "         .  .  87 

Alma  Mater F.  L.  H.    .  .  89 

The  Village  Meeting-House  ....  "          .  .  91 


CONTENTS 


PAG* 

The  Days W.  C.  G.  .     .      95 


F.  L 


H. 


The  Old  Love-Song     .... 
The  Dear  Togetherness  .     .     . 

Hero  by  Brevet 

Nursery  Logic 

How  Little  Jo  Named  the  Baby 

In  the  Albula  Pass 

Coronado  Beach 

Dover W 

We  See  as  we  Are  ....... 

Tree-Surprise .     . 

A  Day  in  October F.  L.  H 


C.  G. 


97 

99 
101 
103 
106 
109 
111 
112 
114 
115 
117 


ONE   LAW,   ONE   LIFE,   ONE    LOVE 

O  Prophet  souls  of  all  the  years, 

Bend  o'er  us  from  above ; 
Your  far-off  vision,  toils  and  tears 

Now  to  fulfilment  move  ! 

From  tropic  clime  and  zones  of  frost 
They  come,  of  every  name,  — 

This,  this  our  day  of  Pentecost, 
The  Spirit's  tongue  of  flame ! 

The  ancient  barriers  disappear : 
Down  bow  the  mountains  high ; 

The  sea-divided  shores  draw  near 
In  a  world's  unity. 

One  Life  together  we  confess, 

One  all-indwelling  Word, 
One  holy  Call  to  righteousness 

Within  the  silence  heard : 


10     ONE  LAW,  ONE  LIFE,  ONE  LOVE 

One  Law  that  guides  the  shining  spheres 
As  on  through  space  they  roll, 

And  speaks  in  flaming  characters 
On  Sinais  of  the  soul : 

One  Love,  unfathomed,  measureless, 

An  ever-flowing  sea, 
That  holds  within  its  vast  embrace 

Time  and  eternity. 

World's  Parliament  of  Religions 
Chicago,  1893 


'WHO  WERT  AND  ART  AND 
EVERMORE  SHALT  BE' 

Bring,  O  Morn,  thy  music!      Bring,  O 
Night,  thy  hushes ! 
Oceans,  laugh  the  rapture  to  the  storm-winds 
coursing  free ! 
Suns  and  stars  are  singing,  Thou  art  our 
Creator, 
Who  wert  and  art  and  evermore  shalt 
be! 

Life  and  Death,  thy  creatures,  praise  thee, 
Mighty  Giver ! 
Praise  and  prayer  are  rising  in  thy  beast 
and  bird  and  tree  : 
Lo  !  they  praise  and  vanish,  vanish  at  thy 
bidding,  — 
Who  wert  and  art  and  evermore  shalt 
be! 


12  '  WHO    WERT  AND  ART' 

Light  us  !  lead  us  !  love  us  !  cry  thy  grop- 
ing nations, 
Pleading  in  the  thousand  tongues  but  nam- 
ing only  thee, 
Weaving  blindly  out  thy  holy,  happy  pur- 
pose, — 
Who  wert  and  art  and  evermore  shalt 
be! 

Life  nor  Death  can  part  us,  O  thou  Love 
Eternal, 
Shepherd  of  the  wandering  star  and  souls 
that  wayward  flee ! 
Homeward  draws  the  spirit  to  thy  Spirit 
yearning,  — 
Who  wert  and  art  and  evermore  shalt 
be! 

1893 


IN  LONELY   VIGIL 

O  thou  in  lonely  vigil  led 
To  follow  Truth's  new-risen  star 
Ere  yet  her  morning  skies  are  red, 
And  vale  and  upland  shadowed  are,  — 

Gird  up  thy  loins  and  take  thy  road, 
Obedient  to  the  vision  be  : 
Trust  not  in  numbers  ;  God  is  God, 
And  one  with  Him  majority  ! 

Soon  pass  the  judgments  of  the  hour, 
Forgotten  are  the  scorn  and  blame  ; 
The  Word  moves  on,  a  gladdening  power, 
And  safe  enshrines  the  prophet's  fame, 

Now,  as  of  old,  in  lowly  plight 
The  Christ  of  larger  faith  is  born : 
The  watching  shepherds  come  by  night, 
And  then  — the  kings  of  earth  at  morn  ! 

Emerson  Commemoration,  W.  U.  C,  1888 


EDELWEISS 

From  the  German  of  Hermann  Lingg 

On  the  rock  and  girt  with  ice, 
Neighbor  to  the  circling  star, 

Bloomest  thou,  dear  edelweiss, 
From  all  other  flowers  afar ; 

By  their  joyous  spring  unblest, 

Lonely  on  the  rock's  cold  breast. 

Where  the  lightnings  have  their  home, 
And  the  startled  chamois  listen, 

Where  the  plunging  waters  foam, 
Eagles  reign,  and  glaciers  glisten,  — 

Death  and  terror  everywhere,  — 

Pure  and  glad  thou  bloomest  there. 

So  stands  he  in  noble  pain, 

Lone  anear  the  arching  heaven, 

Lonely  proud,  who  worldly  gain, 
Smiles  and  honors,  all  has  given 

Freely  as  his  freedom's  price,  — 

As  thou  bloomest,  edelweiss  ! 

1891 


EDELWEISS 

This  edelweiss  I  wear  was  not  first  mine ; 

I  had  it  cheaply  in  the  little  town 

Of  one  who  from  the  mountains  had  come 

down ; 
A  meek-eyed  man,  rough-clad,  with  many  a 

sign 
Of  burning  sun  and  of  the  tempest's  frown. 
Now  through  the  valley,  with  its  corn  and 

wine, 
His  star-blooms  badge  the  thronging  tourists 

fine 
Whose  feet  his   toilsome   path   have   never 

known. 

O  prophet  souls,  who  with  bruised  feet  have 

trod 
The  heaven-lit  heights  and  thence  to  us  have 

brought 
Your  wider  vision,  your  high-hearted  faith, 
Your  hope  for  Man,  your  larger  thought  of 

God,  — 
We  wear  your  edelweiss  ;  Life's  common  lot 
Ever  to  your  high  service  witnesseth! 

Switzerland,  1888 


THE   CROWNING   DAY 

The  morning  hangs  its  signal 

Upon  the  mountain's  crest, 

While  all  the  sleeping  valleys 

In  silent  darkness  rest ; 
From  peak  to  peak  it  flashes, 

It  laughs  along  the  sky 
That  the  crowning  day  is  coming  by  and  by  1 
Chorus:  O,  the  crowning  day  is  coming, 
Is  coming  by  and  by  ! 
We  can  see  the  rose  of  morning, 

A  glory  in  the  sky. 
And  that  splendor  on  the  hill-tops 

O'er  all  the  land  shall  lie 
In  the  crowning  day  that 's  coming 
by  and  by ! 

Above  the  generations 

The  lonely  prophets  rise,  — 
The  Truth  flings  dawn  and  day-star 

Within  their  glowing  eyes ; 


THE  CROWNING  DAY  17 

From  heart  to  heart  it  brightens, 

It  draweth  ever  nigh, 
Till  itcrowneth  all  men  thinking,  by  and  by  I 
Chorus  :  O,  the  crowning  day  is  coming  ! 

The  soul  hath  lifted  moments 

Above  the  drift  of  days, 
When  life's  great  meaning  breaketh 

In  sunrise  on  our  ways  ; 
From  hour  to  hour  it  haunts  us, 

The  vision  draweth  nigh, 
Till  it  crowneth  living,  dying,  by  and  b)  I 
Chorus  :  O,  the  crowning  day  is  coming  ! 

And  in  the  sunrise  standing, 

Our  kindling  hearts  confess 
That  '  no  good  thing  is  failure, 

No  evil  thing  success  ! ' 
From  age  to  age  it  groweth, 

That  radiant  faith  so  high, 
And  its  crowning  day  is  coming  by  and  by  ! 
Chorus:  O,  the  crowning  day  is  coming  ! 

Music  :  '  Gospel  Hymns,'  No.  416.     1886 


THE   DAY  OF   GOD 

Thy  kingdom  come,  —  on  bended  knee 

The  passing  ages  pray  ; 
And  faithful  souls  have  yearned  to  see 

On  earth  that  kingdom's  day. 

But  the  slow  watches  of  the  night 

Not  less  to  God  belong, 
And  for  the  everlasting  Right 

The  silent  stars  are  strong. 

And  lo  !  already  on  the  hills 

The  flags  of  dawn  appear  ; 
Gird  up  your  loins,  ye  prophet  souls, 

Proclaim  the  day  is  near ! 

The  day  in  whose  clear-shining  light 
All  wrong  shall  stand  revealed ; 

When  justice  shall  be  throned  in  might, 
And  every  hurt  be  healed  : 


THE  DAY  OF   GOD  19 

When  knowledge  hand  in  hand  with  peace 
Shall  walk  the  earth  abroad,  — 

The  day  of  perfect  righteousness, 
The  promised  day  of  God! 

M.  T.  S  ,  June  12,  1891 


THE   INWARD   WITNESS 

O  Thou  whose  Spirit  witness  bears 

Within  our  spirits  free 
That  we  thy  children  are  and  heirs 

Of  thine  eternity,  — 

Here  may  this  simple  faith  sublime 

O'er-arch  us  like  the  sky; 
Secure  below  the  drift  of  time 

Its  firm  foundations  lie. 

Our  thought  o'erflows  each  written  scroll, 
Our  creeds,  they  rise  and  fall ; 

The  life  of  God  within  the  soul 
Lives  and  outlasts  them  all. 

Here  may  that  witness  clearer  grow 

Each  waiting  heart  within, 
The  way  of  filial  duty  show 

And  slad  obedience  win. 


THE   INWARD    WITNESS 

Here  be  life's  sorrows  sanctified, 
Here  truth  her  radiance  pour  ; 

While  hope  and  faith  and  love  abide. 
Forever  more  and  more  ! 

For  T   K  ,  Omaha,  1891 


THOU  WHO  ART  STRONG  TO 
HEAL 

O  Fount  of  Being's  sea, 
Forever  flowing  free, 

The  One  in  all,  — 
Thou  whom  no  eye  e'er  saw, 
Indwelling  Love  and  Law, 
To  thee  we  suppliant  draw, 

On  thee  we  call. 

Be  consecrate  to  truth, 
In  manhood  as  in  youth, 

Our  growing  powers ; 
That  we  may  read  thy  thought 
Nature  and  Life  inwrought, 
Thy  perfect  will  be  taught, 

And  make  it  ours  ! 

Thine  image  may  we  own 

In  Man,  creation's  crown. 

These  temples  thine : 


THOU  WHO  ART  STRONG  23 

Holy  our  calling  be, 
From  bonds  of  pain  to  free, 
And  bring  the  liberty 
Of  life  divine ! 

Thy  presence  still  abide 
Within  these  walls  to  guide, 

Inspire  and  bless ; 
Thou  who  art  strong  to  heal, 
The  Christ-like  touch  reveal, 
And  in  each  spirit  seal 

Thy  tenderness  1 

Rush  Medical  College,  Chicago,  1891 


THE   HEAVENLY   HELPER 

Unto  thee,  abiding  ever, 

Look  I  in  my  need, 
Strength  of  every  good  endeavor, 

Holy  thought  and  deed  ! 

Thou  dost  guide  the  stars  of  heaven. 

Heal  the  broken  heart, 
Bring  in  turn  the  morn  and  even,  — 

Law  and  Love  thou  art. 

Clouds  and  darkness  are  about  thee. 

Just  and  sure  thy  throne,  — 
Not  a  sparrow  falls  without  thee.. 

All  to  thee  is  known. 

Origin  and  end  of  being, 
\        All  things  in  and  through,  — 
Light  thou  art  of  all  my  seeing, 
Power  to  will  and  do. 


THE  HEAVENLY  HELPER  25 

Through  my  life,  whate'er  betide  me. 

Thou  my  trust  shalt  be ; 
Whom  have  I  on  earth  beside  thee, 

Whom  in  heaven  but  thee  ? 


1886 


CHURCH-BELLS 

Over  hills  and  valleys, 

Over  prairies  wide, 
Quiet  call  the  church-bells 

To  the  altar-side. 
High  in  old  cathedrals 

Chant  the  brazen  lips, 
Down  the  leafy  by-ways 

Airy  pleading  slips. 

In  his  toil  the  worker 

Pauses  at  the  sound,  — 
Heaven  a  little  nearer, 

Earth  a  holier  ground. 
At  the  sound  the  Sundays 

With  low  music  fill,  — 
Hark  !  the  lands  are  singing, 

Then  with  prayers  are  still. 

Softer  than  the  church-bells 
With  their  mellow  peal, 

Softer,  sweeter  calling, 
Mystic  voices  steal ; 


CHURCH  BELLS  27 

All  the  shadowy  valleys 

Memory  calls  her  own, 
All  the  spirit's  hill-tops 

Listen  for  the  tone. 


Every  soul  that  listens 

Hears  the  secret  chime,  — 
Bells  from  quiet  inlands 

Out  of  space  or  time; 
Mother-tones  will  stir  them, 

Child-appeals  will  start, 
Hero-deeds  will  set  them 

Ringing  in  the  heart. 


Matin  calls  of  duty 

Wake  us  every  day ; 
'Mid  each  happy  labor 

Angelus  says  '  Pray  1 ' 
Every  hour  that  passes 

Hath  a  vesper  end, 
Breathing,  '  One  who  sleeps  not 

Is  thy  constant  Friend.' 


28  CHURCH  BELLS 

Every  hope  that  wings  us, 

Making  eagle-free, 
Every  shame  that  bows  us, 

Every  loyalty, 
Each  new  joy  and  laughter, 

Sorrows  old  that  bide,  — 
Are  God's  church-bells  calling 

To  an  altar-side. 

1891 


SUN-GLEAMS 

As  silent  as  the  sun-gleam  in  the  forest, 
As  quiet  as  the  shadow  on  the  hill, 

Is  the  shining  of  the  Spirit  in  our  dimness, 
Is  the  falling  of  its  calm  upon  our  will. 

But  subtler  than  the  sun-lift  in  the  leaf-bud, 
That  thrills  through  all  the  forests,  mak- 
ing May, 
And  stronger  than  the  strength  that  plants 
the  mountains, 
Is  that  shining  in  the  heart-lands,  bringing 
day. 

Ausablk  Ponds,  1889 


THE   GRACE   OF   GOD 

'My  grace  is  sufficient  for  thee  ' 

'Mid  my  life's  vicissitude, 
Seeming  evil  mixed  with  good ; 
'Mid  its  pleasure  and  its  pain, 
Alternating  loss  and  gain,  — 
Be  thou  still  my  staff  and  rod, 


Like  a  pilgrim  here  I  pass, 
Darkly  see  as  through  a  glass ; 
Little  know  I  of  the  way, 
What  shall  be  I  cannot  say,  — 
Let  thy  light  upon  me  shine, 
All-sufficient  grace  divine  ! 

'Mid  my  ever-changing  mood 
God  who  changeth  not  is  good ; 
And  his  word  within  I  have, 
He  wdl  guard  the  life  he  save,  - 
Sing,  my  soul,  along  thy  road, 
Happy  in  the  grace  of  God. 


1877 


IN  LITTLES 

A  little  House  of  Life, 
With  many  noises  rife, 

Noises  of  joy  and  crime  ; 
A  little  gate  of  birth 
Through  which  I  slipped  to  Earth 

And  found  myself  in  Time. 

And  there,  not  far  before, 
Another  little  door, 

One  day  to  swing  so  free ! 
None  pauses  there  to  knock, 
No  other  hand  tries  lock,  — 

It  knows,  and  waits  for  me. 

From  out  what  Silent  Land 
I  came,  on  Earth  to  stand 

And  learn  life's  little  art, 
Is  not  in  me  to  say : 
I  know  I  did  not  stray,  — 

Was  sent ;  to  come,  my  part. 


32  m  LITTLES 

And  down  what  Silent  Shore 
Beyond  yon  little  door 

I  pass,  I  cannot  tell ; 
I  know  I  shall  not  stray, 
Nor  ever  lose  the  way,  — 

Am  sent ;  and  all  is  well. 

1891 


WITH   SELF  DISSATISFIED 

Not  when,  with  self  dissatisfied, 

O  Lord,  I  lowly  lie, 
So  much  I  need  thy  grace  to  guide, 

And  thy  reproving  eye,  — 

As  when  the  sound  of  human  praise 

Grows  pleasant  to  my  ear, 
And  in  its  light  my  broken  ways 

Fair  and  complete  appear. 

By  failure  and  defeat  made  wise, 

We  come  to  know  at  length 
What  strength  within  our  weakness  lies, 

What  weakness  in  our  strength : 

What  inward  peace  is  born  of  strife, 
What  power,  of  being  spent ; 

What  wings  unto  our  upward  life 
Is  noble  discontent. 
3 


34  WITH  SELF  DISSATISFIED 

O  Lord,  we  need  thy  shaming  look 
That  burns  all  low  desire ; 

The  discipline  of  thy  rebuke 
Shall  be  refining  fire  ! 

1893 


BEHIND   AND   BEFORE 

1  One  thing  I  do ;  the  things  behind  forget- 
ting 
And  reaching  forward  to  the  things  before, 
Unto  the  goal,  the  prize  of  God's  high  calling. 
Onward  I  press,'  —  said  that  great  soul  of 
yore. 

And  in  the  heart,  like   strains    of    martial 
music, 
Echo  the  words  of    courage,  trust,    and 
cheer, 
The  while  we  stand,  half  hoping,  half  re- 
gretting, 
Between  the  coming  and  the  parting  year. 

Behind  are  joys,  fond  hopes  that  found  ful- 
filment, 
Sweet  fellowships,  glad  toil  of  hand  and 
brain. 


36  BEHIND  AND  BEFORE 

Unanswered   prayers,  burdens   of   loss  and 
sorrow, 
Faces  that  look  no  more  in  ours  again. 

Before  us  lie  the  hills,  sunlit  with  promise, 
Fairer  fulfilments   than    the    past    could 
know, 
New  growths  of   soul,  new  leadings  of  the 
Spirit, 
And  all  the  glad  surprises  God  will  show. 

All  we  have  done,  or  nobly  failed  in  doing, 
All  we  have  been,  or  bravely  striven  to  be, 

Makes  for  our  gain,  within  us  still  surviving 
As  power  and  larger  possibility. 

All,  all  shall  count;    the  mingled   joy  and 
sorrow 

To  force  of  finer  being  rise  at  last  : 
From  the  crude  ores  in  trial's  furnace  smelted 

The  image  of  the  perfect  life  is  cast. 

1  Onward  I  press,  the  things  behind  forget- 
ting 
And  reaching  forward  to  the  things  be- 
fore : ' 


BEHIND  AND  BEFORE  37 

Ring  the  brave  words  like  strains  of  martial 
music 
As   we    pass    through   the    Xew   Year's 
opened  door. 

1890 


'THINK   ON  THESE   THINGS' 

1  Whatsoever  things  are  true,  whatsoever  things 
are  honorable,  whatsoever  things  are  just,  whatso- 
ever things  are  pure,  whatsoever  things  are  lovely, 
whatsoever  things  are  of  good  report,  if  there  be 
any  virtue,  and  if  there  be  any  praise,  think  on 
these  things.'1 

Whatsoever  is  just  and  pure, 

Think  on  these  things,  my  soul ! 
Earth  shall  vanish,  but  these  endure, 
Think  on  these  things,  my  soul ! 
When  all  else  shall  fail  thee, 
These  shall  still  avail  thee  ; 
Think  on  these  things,  strive  for  these  things, 
Cherish  these  things,  my  soul ! 

Truth  and  honor,  they  call  to  thee, 
Think  on  these  things,  my  soul ! 

What  of  virtue  and  praise  there  be, 
Think  on  these  things,  my  soul ! 


THINK  ON   THESE    THINGS         39 

These  have  been  the  glory 
Of  all  human  story  ; 
Think  on  these  things,  strive  for  these  things, 
Cherish  these  things,  my  soul ! 

Faithful  spirits  before  have  gone, 

Think  on  these  things,  my  soul  1 
Grand  thy  heritage,  hero-won, 
Think  on  these  things,  my  soul ! 
From  all  brave  endeavor 
Springeth  good  forever ; 
Think  on  these  things,  strive  for  these  things, 
Cherish  these  things,  my  soul  1 

Music:   'Gospel  Hj-mns,' No.  282 


THE   CROSS  ON   THE  FLAG 

From  age  to  age  they  gather,  all  the  brave 

of  heart  and  strong, 
In  the  strife  of  truth  with  error,  of  the  right 

against  the  wrong ; 
I  can  see  their  gleaming  banner,  I  can  hear 

their  triumph-song : 

The  Truth  is  marching  on ! 

'  In  this  sign  we  conquer ; '  't  is  the  symbol 

of  our  faith, 
Made  holy  by  the  might  of  love  triumphant 

over  death ; 
He  finds  his  life  who  loseth  it,  forevermore 

it  saith : 

The  Right  is  marching  on  ! 

The  earth  is  circling  onward  out  of  shadow 
into  light ; 

The  stars  keep  watch  above  our  way,  how- 
ever dark  the  night : 


THE  CROSS  ON   THE  FLAG         41 

For  every  martyr's  stripe  there  glows  a  bar 
ning  bright : 
And  Love  is  marching  on  ! 


of  morning  bright : 


Lead  on,  O  cross  of  martyr-faith,  with  thee 

is  victory ! 
Shine  forth,  O  stars  and  reddening  dawn, 

the  full  day  yet  shall  be  ! 
On  earth  his  kingdom  cometh,  and  with  joy 

our  eyes  shall  see  : 

Our  God  is  marching  on  ! 

For  S.  S.  H.,  Decorah,  Ia.,  1891 


FROM   GENERATION   TO   GENERA- 
TION 

O  Light,  from  age  to  age  the  same, 

Forever  living  Word,  — 
Here  have  we  felt  thy  kindling  flame, 

Thy  voice  within  have  heard. 

Here  holy  thought  and  hymn  and  prayer 
Have  winged  the  spirit's  powers, 

And  made  these  walls  divinely  fair,  — 
Thy  temple,  Lord,  and  ours. 

What  visions  rise  above  the  years, 
What  tender  memories  throng, 

Till  the  eye  fills  with  happy  tears, 
The  heart  with  grateful  song  ! 

Vanish  the  mists  of  time  and  sense  ; 

They  come,  the  loved  of  yore, 
And  one  encircling  Providence 

Holds  all  for  evermore. 


PROM  GENERATION,  ETC.  43 

O,  not  in  vain  their  toil  who  wrought 
To  build  faith's  freer  shrine,  — 

Xor  theirs  whose  steadfast  love  and  thought 
Have  watched  the  fire  divine. 

Burn,  holy  fire,  and  shine  more  wide  ! 

While  systems  rise  and  fall, 
Faith,  hope,  and  charity  abide, 

The  heart  and  soul  of  all. 

Quinct,  III.  :  Fiftieth  Anniversary,  1890 


HOLY  PLACES 

Where  men  on  mounts  of  vision 

Have  passed  the  veil  within, 
Where  hearts  bowed  in  contrition 

Have  risen  from  their  sin, 
Where  light  on  upturned  faces 

Earth's  Calvaries  has  crowned,  - 
Here  are  her  holy  places, 

This,  consecrated  ground. 

Where  life  is  nobly  given 

And  man  for  man  has  died, 
Where  bonds  of  wrong  are  riven 

And  right  is  glorified,  — 
One  faith  the  spirit  traces, 

Brightening  from  age  to  age  ; 
These  are  earth's  holy  places 

And  shrines  of  pilgrimage. 


HOLY  PLACES  45 

Here,  Lord,  may  thy  revealing 

In  waiting  hearts  be  known, 
Here  holier  thought  and  feeling 

The  secret  Presence  own : 
May  prayer  and  aspiration, 

In-shinings  of  thy  grace, 
And  sorrow's  consolation 

Make  this  our  holy  place ! 

Still  from  the  spirit's  essence 

All  things  new  meaning  win; 
The  temple  of  thy  presence 

Is  ever,  Lord,  within. 
May  outward  dedication 

Have  inward  seal  and  sign, 
The  spirit's  consecration 

Make  beautiful  the  shrine  ! 

For  C.  W.  W.,  Oakland,  Cal.,  1891 


THE    BUILDING    OF   THE  TEMPLE 

THE    CORNER-STONE 

He  laid  his  rocks  in  courses, 

His  forest  crowned  the  hill, 
He  yoked  the  ancient  forces 

And  lent  them  to  our  will ; 
The  heart  he  woke  to  duty, 

He  graced  the  builder's  thought, — 
He  gave  Creation  beauty, 

And  he  the  Temple  wrought ! 

Now,  Father,  build  within  us 

The  Temple's  counterpart, 
Deep  laid  in  holy  purpose, 

Fair  colored  of  the  heart ; 
Its  windows  heaven-lighted, 

Peace  and  Good- will  its  plan, 
Its  towers  our  Faith  and  Worship, 

Its  doors  the  Love  of  Man  ! 

1888 


BUILDING  OF   THE   TEMPLE        47 
THE    DEDICATION 

To  cloisters  of  the  spirit 

These  aisles  of  quiet  lead  : 
Here  may  the  vision  gladden, 

The  voice  within  us  plead  I 
And  may  the  dear  All-Father, 

Who  maketh  trouble  cease, 
Here  send  his  two,  the  blessed, 

His  angels  Shame  and  Peace ! 

Here  be  no  man  a  stranger  ; 

No  holy  cause  be  banned  ; 
No  good  for  one  be  counted 

Not  good  for  all  the  land  ! 
And  here  for  prophet  voices 

The  message  never  fail,  — 
1  God  reigns  !    His  Truth  shall  conquer, 

And  Right  and  Love  prevail  1 ' 

1894 


THE  WORD  OF  GOD 

It  sounds  along  the  ages, 

•Soul  answering  to  soul ; 
It  kindles  on  the  pages 

Of  every  Bible  scroll ; 
The  psalmists  heard  and  sang  it, 

From  martyr-lips  it  broke, 
And  prophet-tongues  outrang  it 

Till  sleeping  nations  woke. 

From  Sinai's  cliffs  it  echoed, 

It  breathed  from  Buddha's  tree, 
It  charmed  in  Athens'  market, 

It  gladdened  Galilee ; 
The  hammer-stroke  of  Luther, 

The  Pilgrims'  sea-side  prayer, 
The  oracles  of  Concord, 

One  holy  Word  declare. 


THE    WORD  OF   GOD  49 

It  dates  each  new  ideal,  — 

Itself  it  knows  not  time; 
Man's  laws  but  catch  the  music 

Of  its  eternal  chime. 
It  calls  —  and  lo,  new  Justice  ! 

It  speaks  —  and  lo,  new  Truth  ! 
In  ever  nobler  stature 

And  unexhausted  youth. 

It  even-where  arriveth ; 

Recks  not  of  small  and  great ; 
It  shapes  the  unborn  atom, 

It  tells  the  sun  its  fate. 
The  wing-beat  of  archangel 

Its  boundary  never  nears  : 
Forever  on  it  soundeth 

The  music  of  the  spheres ! 
1894 


UNTO   HIM  ALL   LIVE 

O  Lord  of  Life,  where'er  they  be, 
Safe  in  thine  own  eternity, 
Our  dead  are  living  unto  thee. 

All  souls  are  thine  and,  here  or  there, 
They  rest  within  thy  sheltering  care ; 
One  providence  alike  they  share. 

Thy  word  is  true,  thy  ways  are  just ; 
Above  the  requiem  '  dust  to  dust ' 
Shall  rise  our  psalm  of  grateful  trust. 

O  happy  they  in  God  who  rest, 

No  more  by  fear  and  doubt  oppressed  ; 

Living  or  dying  they  are  blest. 

Alleluia ! 

1888 


EASTER  MORN 

Ox  eyes  that  watch  through  sorrow's  night, 

On  aching  hearts  and  worn, 
Rise  thou  with  healing  in  thy  light, 

O  happy  Easter  morn  ! 

The  dead  earth  wakes  beneath  thy  rays, 

The  tender  grasses  spring ; 
The  woods  put  on  their  robes  of  praise, 

And  flowers  are  blossoming. 

O  shine  within  the  spirit's  skies, 

Till,  in  thy  kindling  glow, 
From  out  the  buried  memories 

Immortal  hopes  shall  grow  : 

Till  from  the  seed  oft  sown  in  grief, 

And  wet  with  bitter  tears, 
Our  faith  shall  bind  the  harvest  sheaf 

Of  the  eternal  years  ! 

1890 


RISEN 

They  came,  bringing  spices,  at  break  of  the 

day 

With  hearts  heavy-laden  and  sore, 

And,  lo,  from  the  tomb  was  the  stone  rolled 
away, 

An  angel  sat  there  by  the  door  ! 

1  Why  seek  ye  the  living  'mid   emblems  of 

death? 

Not  here,  he  is  risen,'  the  shining  one  saith. 

0  type  through  the  ages  and  symbol  of  faith. 
Whose  spirit  is  true  evermore  : 

The  hearts  we  have  cherished  we  lose  not  in 

death, 
The  grave  over  love  hath  no  power. 
There  sitteth  the  angel,  there  speaketh  the 

word,  — 

1  Not    here,  they    are   risen,'  in    silence   is 

heard. 


RISEN  53 

O  ye  who  still  watch  in  the  valley  of  tears 

And  wait  for  the  night  to  go  by, 
Lift,  lift  up   your  eyes,  on   the   mountains 
appears 
The  day-spring  of  God  from  on  high  ! 
He  turneth  the  shadows  of  night  into  day,  — 
•  Not  here,  they  are  risen,'  his  shining  ones 
say. 

Santa  Barbara,  1894 


WHAT  WILL   THE   VIOLETS   BE? 

S.  A.  M. 

What  will  the  violets  be 

There  in  the  Spring  of  springs  ? 
What  will  the  bird-song  be 

Where  the  very  tree-bough  sings  ? 
What  will  their  Easter  be 

Where  never  are  dead  to  mourn, 
But  brightly  the  faces  ask, 

1  O,  when  will  the  rest  be  born  ?  ' 

Brighter  the  Easter  shines 

On  the  faces  here  below, 
That  they  are  behind  the  flowers, 

The  heart  of  the  living  glow. 
Beautiful  secret,  wait ! 

A  morrow  or  two,  and  we 
Shall  know  in  the  Spring  of  springs 

What  the  violets  will  be. 
1886 


OVER  THE  LAND  IN  GLORY 

Over  the  land  in  glory 

Breaketh  the  Easter  morn  : 
Nature  repeateth  her  story,  — 

Life  out  of  death  new-born  ! 
Lo,  the  year  's  at  the  Spring, 

Buds  are  blossoming, 
Earth  and  heavens  sing : 

Life  is  life  forever,  evermore  ! 

Listen,  the  birds  are  singing, 

Softly  the  south  winds  play ; 
Bells  in  the  steeples  ringing 

Welcome  the  festal  day  : 
And  the  message  they  bear 

On  the  radiant  air 

Chides  sorrow  and  fear  : 

Life  is  life  forever,  evermore  ! 


56        OVER    THE  LAND  IN  GLORY 

Skies  of  the  spirit  brighten, 

Hopes  like  the  birds  return  : 
Hearts  with  the  promise  lighten,  — 

'  Blessed  are  they  that  mourn.' 
To  each  winter  a  Spring 

God  will  surely  bring, 

And  the  heart  shall  sing  : 

Life  is  life  forever,  evermore ! 

Music :  '  King's-Chapel  Carols,'  No.  49.  1890 


EASTER   FESTIVAL 

Lo,  the  Day  of  days  is  here, 
Earth  puts  on  her  robes  of  cheer : 
Day  of  hope  and  prophecy, 
Feast  of  Immortality ! 
Fields  are  smiling  in  the  sun, 
Loosened  streamlets  seaward  run, 
Tender  blade  and  leaf  appear, 
'T  is  the  Springtide  of  the  year  ! 
Day  of  hope  and  prophecy, 
Feast  of  Immortality  ! 

Lo,  the  Day  of  days  is  here, 
Hearts,  awake  and  sing  with  cheer ! 
He  who  robes  his  earth  anew 
Careth  for  his  children  too. 
They  who  look  to  him  in  faith 
Triumph  over  fear  and  death ; 
Speaks  the  angel  by  the  door 
•  They  are  risen  '  evermore. 


58  EASTER  FESTIVAL 

Day  of  hope  and  prophecy, 
Feast  of  Immortality ! 

Lo,  the  Day  of  days  is  here, 
Music  thrills  the  atmosphere. 
Join,  ye  people  all,  and  sing 
Love  and  praise  and  thanksgiving  ! 
Rocky  steep  or  flowery  mead, 
One  the  Shepherd  that  doth  lead  ; 
One  the  hope  within  us  born, 
One  the  joy  of  Easter  morn  ! 
Day  of  hope  and  prophecy, 
Feast  of  Immortality ! 

Music  :  '  King's-Chapel  Carols,'  No.  4.     1890 


DISCIPLESHIP 

On  the  Judaean  hills 

Would  I  have  seen  the  light 
The  watching  shepherds  saw, 

Turning  to  noon  the  night  V 
Would  I  have  seen  the  star 

That  new  in  heaven  shone, 
And  followed  with  the  few 

The  new-born  Christ  to  own? 

And  if  mine  ears  had  heard 

The  Man  of  Galilee 
Speaking  from  heart  aflame 

The  Truth  that  maketh  free, 
Turning  from  priest  and  scribe, 

Dead  rite  and  parchment  roll, 
Would  1  have  hailed  in  him 

A  Prophet  of  the  Soul  ? 


60  DISCIPLESHIP 

Those  words  upon  the  mount, 

By  way-sides,  in  the  town,  — 
Unwelcome  to  his  time, 

Now  Holy  Scripture  grown,  — 
Would  I  have  read  in  them 

A  message  from  on  high, 
Or  joined  the  multitude 

Who  cried  out  Crucify  ? 

Ah,  vain  for  you  or  me 

To  question  thus  the  Past ! 
Not  then  but  now  for  us 

The  fateful  choice  is  cast ; 
Ever  the  larger  faith 

Makes  way  'mid  doubt  and  scorn, 
And  in  its  latest  word 

Anew  the  Christ  is  born. 

The  true  disciples  they, 

The  wide  earth  o'er,  who  own 
Truth  in  her  manger  low, 

Ere  yet  she  mounts  the  throne  : 
Who  from  the  dead  Christ's  tomb 

Take  not  the  stones  to  slay 
In  blinded  fear  and  rage 

The  living  Christ  to-day. 


DISCIPLESHIP  61 

They  hear  the  angels'  song, 

'T  is  they  who  see  the  light 
The  watching  shepherds  saw 

Making  the  heavens  bright: 
They  see  the  self-same  star 

O'er  Bethlehem  that  shone, 
And  follow  joyful  forth 

The  new-born  Christ  to  own. 


1888 


THE  MAN  OF  NAZARETH 

1 A  cloud  received  him  out  of  sight,'  — 
Even  so ;  and  then  men  knew  no  more 

The  human  presence  warm  and  bright, 
As  he  had  walked  the  earth  before ; 

The  preacher  of  the  mountain-side, 
Teaching  the  kingdom's  reign  within, 

Strong  in  rebuke  of  hardened  pride, 
Yet  pitiful  of  conscious  sin/ 

But  sceptered  now,  and  throned  afar, 
They  watched  in  dread  his  swift  return, 

To  see  before  his  judgment  bar 

The  earth  dissolve  and  heavens  burn. 

The  gathered  clouds  of  centuries  lift; 

No  king  in  wrath  descends  to  reign, 
Yet  king-like  through  the  shining  rift 

The  Man  of  Nazareth  comes  again. 


THE  MAN  OF  NAZARETH  63 

O  Friend  and  Brother,  draw  more  near 
The  while  thy  festival  we  keep ; 

Diviner  shall  our  lives  appear 
Held  fast  in  thy  high  fellowship. 

Christmas,  1890 


MARY'S  MANGER-SONG 

Sleep,  my  little  Jesus, 

On  thy  bed  of  hay, 
While  the  shepherds  homeward 

Journey  on  their  way  ! 
Mother  is  thy  shepherd 

And  will  vigil  keep  : 
O,  did  the  angels  wake  thee  ? 

Sleep,  my  Jesus,  sleep  ! 

Sleep,  my  little  Jesus, 

While  thou  art  my  own ! 
Ox  and  ass  thy  neighbors,  — 

Shalt  thou  have  a  throne  ? 
Will  they  call  me  blessed  ? 

Shall  I  stand  and  weep  ? 
O,  be  it  far,  Jehovah  ! 

Sleep,  my  Jesus,  sleep ! 


MARY'S  MANGER-SONG  65 

Sleep,  my  little  Jesus, 

Wonder-baby  mine ! 
Well  the  singing  angels 

Greet  thee  as  divine. 
Through  my  heart,  as  heaven, 

Low  the  echoes  sweep 
Of  Glory  to  Jehovah ! 

Sleep,  my  Jesus,  sleep  ! 

Music  :  '  The  Carol,'  page  44.    1882 


WHITTIER 

No  thrush  at  eve  had  ever  sweeter  song 
Than  thine  whose  voice  no  more  on  earth 

we  hear  ; 
Nor  winds  and  flowing  streams  more  please 

the  ear, 
Nor  to  the  speech  of  Nature  more  belong. 
And  yet  thy  heart  beat  ever  with  the  throng 
Of  toil  ;  the  lowliest  life  thou  didst  revere 
And  the  wide  law  of  brotherhood  hold  dear, 
Most  mindful  still  of  all  who  suffered  wrong. 

Best  loved  of  all  the  choir  we  loved  so  well, 
'T  was  thine  to  bring  again  the  Master  near, 
And  hymn  to  men  the  Goodness  without  end  : 
Psalmist  we  call  thee  of  our  Israel, 
Child  of  the  Spirit,  poet,  prophet,  seer,  — 
And  to  us  all,  of  every  name,  the  Friend  / 

1892 


WHITTIER 

A  rugged  rock  is  the  mountain, 

Rock  from  the  base  to  crown ; 
But  the  mountain  glens  and  valleys, 

Where  the  brooks  come  leaping  down. 
Are  gardens  of  tender,  ferny  things, 

Sweet  tangles  of  green  and  brown. 

Like  the  mountain  stood  our  poet  I 

Strength  of  the  hills  was  he, 
In  the  quiet  sky  uplifted, 

A  moveless  sanctity  ; 
And  the  listening  lands  heard  thunders  roll 

Of  his  Sinai  prophecy. 

But  the  brooks  in  his  heart  were  singing, 

Singing  all  night  and  day, 
And  rhymes  like  the  mosses  nestled 

Over  the  ledges  gray. 
And  a  poet's  radiant  world  of  flowers 

Out-bloomed  from  the  Yea  and  Nay. 

1892 


'NOTHING  BUT   A  POET' 

'  He  sat  and  talked  of  his  own  early  life  and 
aspirations;  how  he  marvelled,  as  he  looked  back, 
at  the  audacious  obstinacy  which  had  made  him, 
when  a  youth,  determine  to  be  a  poet  and  noth- 
ing but  a  poet.''  —  Edmusd  Gosse  on  Robert 
Browning. 

1  Nothing  but  a  poet ! '     So  he  said,  and 
wondered 
At  the  sole  persistence  of  his  years. 
Laughing  world,  you  '11  know  it,  now  that, 
silence-sundered, 
He  is  in  the  welcome  of  his  peers. 

What  said  Milton  to  him,  what  said  Keats 
and  Shakespeare  ? 
O,  to  see  the  smile  on  Dante's  face ! 
Catch  the  great  Greek  xaiP€ >  hear  the  '  bronze 
throat '  hail  him, 
'  Browning  's  come  among  us,  —  give  him 
place  1 ' 


< NOTHING  BUT  A  POET'  69 

'Nothing  but  a  poet,'  singing  songs  of  soul- 
growth, 

Splendor  in  the  pain-throb,  rise  in  fall, 
4  Saul  the  failure '  in  us  re-creating  kingly,  — 

Songs  one  surge  of  morning  !   That  was  all ! 

Browning  Commemoration,  1890 


REMBRANDT 

Suggested  by  the  portrait   of  his  mother   in   the 
Hermitage,  St.  Petersburg. 

Gazing  upon  that  face  where  years  have 

wrought 
The  record  of  their  mingled  loss  and  gain, 
Where  Love  and  Death,  alternate  joy  and 

pain, 
Have    the    hid     soul    to    such    expression 

brought,  — 
Life  fills  with  vaster  meaning  to  my  thought. 
'Neath  change  and  loss  I  read  what  things 

remain 
To  crown  at  last  the  struggle  and  the  strain 
Of  all  our  days,  remembered  or  forgot. 

O  mighty  Master !  Shakespeare  of  the  brush ! 
Interpreting  to  eye,  as  he  to  ear, 


REMBRANDT  71 

The  story  of  earth's  passion  and  its  strife,  — 
Thy  genius  caught  the  new  day's  morning 

flush, 
Saw  glory  in  the  common  and  the  near, 
And  on  immortal  canvas  gave  us  life  1 

1892 


THE   SOWER 

•  A  sower  went  forth  to  sow/ 

Along  the  pathless  prairie 

The  tread  of  human  feet,  — 
Up  rise  the  smoke-plumed  cabins 

'Mid  springing  corn  and  wheat. 
Where,  like  a  lonely  ocean, 

The  wind-swept  grasses  swung, 
The  golden  sheaves  are  gathered, 

The  harvest  song  is  sung. 

In  vigil  of  the  spirit 

A  young-eyed  listener  heard,  — 
1  Go  forth  among  thy  fellows, 

Thy  seed  the  living  Word  ! 
By  springs  of  joy  and  sorrow, 

In  fields  of  toil  and  care, 
Through  deserts  of  temptation, 

Broadcast  thy  faith  and  prayer.' 


THE  SOWER  73 

From  year  to  year  the  prairie 

Has  waved  with  ripened  grain, 
Borne  on  the  tides  of  traffic 

Wide  over  land  and  main. 
But  who  shall  mart  the  harvest 

Of  nobler  thought  and  deed, 
Of  holier  faith  and  purpose, 

Sprung  from  the  sower's  seed  ? 


O  brave  and  faithful  sower, 

Not  thine  on  earth  to  bind 
The  full  sheaves  of  thy  harvest, 

The  growths  of  heart  and  mind 
Outspreads  in  widening  circles 

The  life-embodied  Word, 
And  they  shall  bear  thee  witness 

Thy  voice  who  never  heard. 


The  people  cease  from  labor, 
The  children  leave  their  play  ; 

All  bring  thee  love  and  honor 
To  crown  thy  festal  day. 


74  THE  SOWER 

The  heavens  glow  in  beauty- 
Lit  by  the  westering  sun, 

And  God's  far  stars  shall  guide  thee 
When  the  long  day  is  done. 

Chester  Corel,  Seventieth  birthday,  1887 


JOHN    C.    LEARNED 

Thy  work  abides,  though  thou  hast  passed 

from  sight : 
Unconsciously  hast  thou  thy  monument 
From  year  to  year  built  fair  and  permanent 
In  lives  to  which  thine  own  was  cheer  and 

light. 
Wisdom   and   meekness   clothed   thee   with 

their  might ; 
In  thee  the  sage  and  saint  were  equal  blent ; 
Strength,  courage,  tenderness  dwelt  in  thy 

tent, 
Thou  soldier  of  the  everlasting  Right ! 

By  so  much  as  we  mourn  thee,  we  rejoice 
That  we  have  known  thee  in  these  earthly 

ways, 
And  with  thee  striven  for  the  things  unseen  : 
Still  in  our  silences  will  speak  thy  voice 
And  thy  dear  memory  inspire  our  days. 
Till  we  too  pass  the  veil  that  hangs  between. 

December,  1893 


'INCARNATE   CHEER' 

'  Have  n't  I  a  right  to  be  grave,  too,  sometimes  ? ' 
J.  LI.  J. 

No  rights  of  gravity  to  thee,  dear  friend ! 
We  need  one  face  about  our  world  to  mend 
Heart's  hurt  and  set  jarred  minds  in  tune, 
And  sure  to  do  this  as  the  blessed  June ; 
One  voice  whose  bell   shall  ring  away  all 

fear ; 
One  hand  in   which  we   grasp   '  incarnate 

cheer ; ' 
One   steadfast   smile   rayed  out  from  eyes 

alight, 
To  make  men  say,  '  He  's  come !  now  all  is 

right !  ■ 

To  J.  LI.  J.  on  his  birthday,  1887 


THIRTY  THOUSAND 

'  Thirty  thousand  !  '  said  the  Fate, 

Mixer  of  the  days  to  be, 
As  she  passed  the  mystic  gate,  — 

Little  Quaker  baby,  she  ! 

Thirty  thousand  days  and  nights  — 
This  the  dower  with  which  she  came 

All  their  sounds  and  all  their  sights 
Vested  in  the  tiny  dame. 

1  Thirty  thousand,'  said  the  Fate  ; 

But  who  draw  the  royal  breath 
Into  deeds  the  days  translate, 

Dainty  Queen  Elizabeth ! 

Price  is  high  for  royal  dowers  ; 

Thee  must  earn  thy  golden  state ! 
Spendthrift  gods  fling  out  the  hours, 

Miser  gods  keep  count  and  weight. 


78  THIRTY  THOUSAND 

Day  and  night  and  night  and  day, 
One  by  one  the  thousands  flee : 

Lady  of  the  Yea  and  Nay, 

Thou  hast  earned  thy  queenerie  ! 

Earned  it  as  a  noble  should, 

Dauntless,  tireless,  gentle-strong  ; 

Giving  Yea  to  every  good, 
Daring  Nay  to  every  wrong. 

Not  in  calendars  thy  fame, 
But  secrete  in  happy  prayer  ; 

Lips  have  blessed  thee  —  not  by  name 
Thanking  God  for  '  daily  care.' 

Thou  dost  leave  a  sweeter  earth, 
Less  of  poison,  less  of  fen, 

By  thy  precedent  of  worth 

Stablished  in  the  world's  Amen. 

Thou  art  part  of  all  uplift ! 

One  tint  brighter  rises  morn 
Henceforth  ever,  —  this  thy  gift 

Wheresoe'er  a  child  is  born. 

To  E.  B.  C,  on  her  eightieth  birthday,  1886 


GOLDEN   WEDDING 

What  do  you  see,  dear  hill-top  pair, 
Side  by  side  in  the  quiet  there, 
Looking  down  through  the  golden  air 
On  the  days  of  long  ago  ? 

Sounds  of  the  valley's  push  and  throng, 
Din  of  its  labor  and  cries  of  its  wrong,  — 
Do  they  rise  and  blend  to  an  evening  song, 
As  you  stand  and  listen  so  ? 

Is  the  valley  filling  with  shadows  dim? 
Do  the  hills  grow  bright  on  the  eastern  rim. 
The  hills  where  you  played  so  free  of  limb, 
In  the  days  of  long  ago  ? 

Tell  us  your  secrets,  our  two-in-one  1 
Do  fifty  years  of  the  rising  sun 
Draw  love  the  closer  for  each  year  run,  — 
Will  you  whisper,  you  who  know  ? 


80  GOLDEN   WEDDING 

Beautiful  secrets  that  none  can  tell 
Till  sunsets  chant  and  the  roses  spell,  — 
As  they  do  for  twos  !  as  two  knew  well 
In  the  days  of  long  ago. 

But  say,  O  lover  by  love  long  taught, 
Why,  under  the  gray  the  years  have  brought, 
She  stands  as  a  maiden  to  our  thought, 
And  a  rose  that  waits  to  blow. 

Tell  us  the  secret  of  home-spun  ways, 
Of  spinning-wheel  hours  in  city  days, 
Clean  and  calm  as  a  Quaker  phrase 
Of  the  simple  long  ago. 

Tell  what  you  see  on  the  farther  side, 
Where  the  new  horizons  open  wide, 
And  you  hear  the  step  of  a  coming  Guide 
The  way  of  the  hills  to  show. 

Out  of  the  quiet  that  holds  you  there 
There  seems  to  float  through  the  golden  air, 
Like  the  brooding  music  after  prayer 
Or  a  song  of  long  ago  :  — 


GOLDEN  WEDDING  81 

1  Little  we  see  ;  but  hand  in  hand 
Fearless  we  turn  to  the  still,  new  land, 
Fearless  to  go  as  here  to  stand ; 
For  this  in  our  hearts  we  know,  — 

1  Wherever  we  go,  Love  goeth  too ; 
Whatever  may  pass,  Love  lasteth  through ; 
And  Love  shall  be  sweet  and  dear  and  true 
As  in  days  of  long  ago.' 

For  J.  D.  and  M.  D.  :  1836-1886 


TWILIGHT 

The  sunset  glow  is  ebbing ; 

Within  the  rose-rimmed  sky 
The  stars  wait  wide  and  lonely 

The  slow  day's  passing  by. 

The  evening  dusks  the  valleys ; 

The  hill-tops  yet  are  lit ; 
The  shadow  broadens  upward, 

And  the  quiet  climbs  with  it. 

All  that  the  day  dissevers 
Now,  in  the  twilight  dun, 

Nestles  again  together,  — 
The  far  and  the  near  are  one. 


Within  her  cloistered  chamber 
Brooded  the  evening  peace, 

As  the  dear  life  faded  slowly, 
Too  happy  to  wish  release. 


TWILIGHT  83 

In  the  widening  hush  she  waited, 

In  the  beautiful  after-glow, 
The  hills  of  her  memory  gleaming, 

The  shadows  climbing  below. 

The  holy  twilight  falling 

Was  not  of  the  star  and  sun ; 
The  earth  and  the  heaven  lights  mingled,  — 

And  the  far  and  near  were  one. 

0.  M.  N.,  1894 


'DEATH   AS   FRIEND' 

After  a  picture  by  Alfred  Rethel 

So  still ! 
The  little  bird  sits  on  the  window-sill ; 
The  sun  behind  him  is  sinking  slow ; 
Down  below  in  the  city  streets 
The  people  are  going  to  and  fro,  — 

Going  home,  for  their  work  is  done. 

'  Tong !     Tong ! ' 
It  is  vesper-hour, 
And  soft  strong  booms 
Steal  out  from  the  great  cathedral  tower 
Over  the  house-tops,  over  the  plain, 
Out  towards  the  sun  : 
<  Tong  !     Tong ! 
Go  home,  for  work  is  done ! ' 

The  old  bell-ringer, 
He,  too,  is  so  still ! 
Fifty  years,  at  the  vesper  hour, 
He  has  rung  the  bell  in  his  eyrie  tower ; 


1 DEA  TH  AS  FRIEND  '  85 

A  dweller  there  with  the  birds  in  the  sky, 
In  the  fields  of  quiet  that  overlie 
The  toil  of  cities,  —  ringing  '  Peace  ! 
Go  home,  for  work  is  done  ! ' 

There,  alone, 

"Where  the  undertone 
Of  the  city  toil  moans  up  to  him, 
He  has  done  his  part  in  the  busy  day, 
Ringing  the  pauses  for  men  to  pray,  — 
Simply,  faithfully,  fifty  years ; 
Ever,  in  heart,  at  his  oaken  board 
Breaking  his  bread  with  the  crucified  Lord, 

In  whose  great  name 

The  bells  proclaim 
1  Peace  !  go  home,  for  work  is  done  ! ' 

One  by  one 

The  strokes  sound  on. 
He  sits  in  the  chair  by  the  window-sill : 
The  little  bird  wonders  at  him  so  still, 
So  still  in  the  fingers,  so  still  in  the  face ! 
i  "What  ails  the  ringer?'  the  people  say, 
•  The  vesper-bell  rings  long  to-day  : 

"We  have  all  gone  home, 

And  work  is  done.' 


80  'DEATH  AS  FRIEND' 

Low,  low, 

In  the  evening  glow, 
It  tolls  and  tolls. 
In  the  belfry  stands  a  hooded  shape, 
With  a  palmer's  shell  on  his  shoulder-cape. 
As  one  who  goeth  from  place  to  place: 
He  grasps  the  rope  with  a  bony  hand, 
Bending  with  a  tender  grace 
To  each  rhythm  of  sweeping  sound. 
With  a  noiseless  foot  he  has  climbed  the  stair, 
And  touched  the  old  man  sitting  there, 
Waiting  for  the  vesper-hour,  and  said, 
4  To-night  I  ring  for  you,  old  friend : 
Go  home,  for  work  is  done ! ' 

So  still ! 
The  little  bird  flies  from  the  window-sill, 
The  sun  has  set,  and  down  below 
The  people  are  saying,  '  It  never  rang  so, 
Never  before,  so  sweet  and  low ! ' 
R.  LI.  J.,  1885 


A.  L.  G. 

1846 

So  early  lost,  I  cannot  tell  the  lift 

Of  mother-arms  !     A  toy  or  two,  her  gift ; 

A  small  white  gown,  her  needle  in  its  seam; 

And,  dim  as  is  a  dream  within  a  dream, 

A  little  figure  at  a  shadow's  feet, 

Or  walking  hand  in  hand  upon  the  street,  — 

A  gentle  shadow  with  an  unseen  face,  — 

Xo  smile,  no  tone,  no  foot-fall  mine  for  trace  : 

That  is  my  unknown  Mother ! 

Yet  I  know 
The  inmost  currents  of  my  being  flow 
From  her  high  springs  ;  the  faiths  that  in  me 

rise 
Have  once  made   happy  lights  within  her 

eyes ; 


88  A.  L.  G. 

The  gardens  of  my  heart  are  seeded  thick 
With  border-blooms  that  first  in  hers  were 

quick ; 
My  very  thought  of  God  is  her  bequest, 
Sealed  mine  before  I  lay  upon  her  breast ! 

O  Mother,  could  an  earthly  smile  suffice, 
And  these  not  serve  me  well  to  recognize  ? 
Inwrought  and  deathless  tokens  pledge  us 

joy 

What  day  my  Mother  meets   her  grateful 
boy! 

1894 


ALMA  MATER 

From  many  ways  and  wide  apart, 

Obedient  to  thy  call, 
Hither  we  turn  with  loyal  heart, 

Dear  Mother  of  us  all ! 

We  walk  the  well-known  paths  once  more 

Amid  the  summer's  bloom ; 
We  pass  familiar  thresholds  o'er, 

And  breathe  the  air  of  home. 

Nor  we  alone ;  they  come  unseen, 

Unheard  their  footsteps  fall ; 
Voices  long  hushed  to  earth  within 

The  cloistered  silence  call. 

O,  more  than  gold  has  been  the  lore 
We  learned  beside  thy  knee,  — 

The  faith  that  grows  from  more  to  more, 
The  truth  that  maketh  free ; 


90  ALMA  MATER 

The  strength  to  do  and  to  endure 
Through  good  report  and  ill, 

The  ueart  of  love,  the  conscience  pure, 
And  the  undaunted  will. 

Be  proud,  O  Mother,  of  thy  past ! 

It  lives  in  thee  to-day  ; 
And  still  its  high  traditions  cast 

Their  light  upon  thy  way. 

Our  love  and  hope  ring  out  their  chime 

Above  thy  festival ; 
Blessings  upon  thee  through  all  time, 

Thou  who  hast  blessed  us  all ! 

1890 


THE  VILLAGE   MEETING-HOUSE 

Still  stands  the  ancient  meeting-house 

Upon  the  village-green, 
And  white  above  the  circling  trees 

The  belfry  tower  is  seen. 

Uncolored  through  the  simple  panes 
The  common  sunlight  pours  ; 

No  Gothic  arches  spring  above 
The  latched  and  painted  doors. 

Their  thresholds  witness  to  the  tread 

Of  feet  long  since  at  rest 
In  yonder  field  of  moss-grown  slates 

With  Bible-text  impressed. 

No  more  at  rise  and  set  of  sun 

Is  heard  the  numbered  toll 
That  spoke  to  all  the  country  round 

The  passing  of  a  soul : 


92  VILLAGE  MEETING-HOUSE 

Yet  still  with  every  new-born  week, 

Across  the  meadows  fair 
And  over  all  the  upland  farms, 

Sounds  the  old  call  to  prayer. 

I  walked  again  the  village  street 
By  absence  made  more  dear  ; 

That  summer  Sunday  held  the  bloom 
And  fragrance  of  the  year. 

I  followed  with  the  worshippers 
The  ancient  house  within  ; 

For  me  with  all  I  saw  and  heard 
Was  mingled  what  had  been. 

For  memory  had  new-kindled  love, 
And  love  had  quickened  faith ; 

I  lived  that  hour  within  a  world 
That  knew  not  change  and  death. 

I  minded  not  the  preacher's  theme, 
Nor  caught  the  words  of  prayer ; 

My  thought  had  passed  within  the  veil 
And  walked  with  spirits  there. 


VILLAGE  MEETING-HOUSE         93 

The  faithful  shepherd  of  the  flock, 
Whose  years  knew  such  increase, 

Who  led  in  wisdom's  simple  ways 
And  by  the  streams  of  peace ; 

The  wise  and  upright  citizen, 

To  each  good  cause  allied, 
Who  brightened  more  an  honored  name 

Through  all  the  country-side ; 

And  souls  that  well  had  borne  their  part, 

And  little  children  fair  ;  — 
Their  unforgotten  faces  gleamed 

In  the  illumined  air. 

I  love  the  minster's  vaulted  roof, 

Its  walls  of  old  renown, 
Where  sculptured  marbles  voice  the  past 

And  windowed  saints  look  down  : 

Nor  less  I  feel  our  Hebrew  strain, 

Distrustful  still  of  art, 
That  lifts  to  the  Invisible 

Immediate  the  heart. 


94  VILLAGE  MEETING-HOUSE 

For  inward  more  than  outward  is, 
The  soul  than  any  shrine ; 

Alone  our  living  love  and  trust 
The  altar  make  divine. 

Long  may  the  ancient  meeting-house 
Rise  from  the  village-green, 

And  over  all  the  country  round 
Its  belfried  tower  be  seen  : 

Still  may  the  call  to  praise  and  prayer 
Be  heard  each  Sunday  morn, 

And  bind  in  growing  faith  the  past 
With  ages  yet  unborn ! 

NORTHBOROUGH,  MASS. 


THE   DAYS 

In  Father  Time's  old  nursery 

The  little  Morrows  wait, 
Each  one  impatient  to  be  out, 

Impatient  to  be  great ; 
On  bravely  through  the  sun  to  go, 

On  bravely  through  the  showers, 
A  world  to  see,  a  Day  to  be  ! 

The  happy-hearted  Hours  ! 

So  one  by  one  he  lets  them  out, 

His  Days  so  young  and  strong, 
The  morning  shining  in  their  face, 

And  on  their  lips  a  song. 
When  home  they  come,  their  work  all  done, 

There  's  quiet  in  their  ways, 
And  shadows  rise  and  haunt  their  eyes,  — 

They  're  dear  old  Yesterdays  ! 


96  THE  DAYS 

And  now  we  love  them  for  the  half 

Of  all  that  we  hold  dear,  — 
The  echo-side  of  every  word, 

The  far  to  every  near  ; 
The  sunset  touch  to  every  hope 

That  fades  along  our  skies, 
The  after-dream,  the  vanished  gleam, 

The  love  in  long-shut  eyes. 

Rochester  :  'Fiftieth  Anniversary,'  1892 


THE   OLD  LOVE-SONG 

Play  it  slowly,  sing  it  lowly, 

Old,  familiar  tune  ! 
Once  it  ran  in  dance  and  dimple, 

Like  a  brook  in  June ; 
Now  it  sobs  along  the  measures 

With  a  sound  of  tears  ; 
Dear  old  voices  echo  through  it, 

Vanished  with  the  years. 

Ripple,  ripple,  goes  the  love-song. 

Till  in  slowing  time 
Early  sweetness  grows  completeness, 

Floods  its  every  rhyme. 
Who  together  learn  the  music 

Life  and  death  unfold, 
Know  that  love  is  but  be^innin^ 

Until  love  is  old. 
7 


98  THE  OLD  LOVE-SONG 

Play  it  slowly,  —  it  is  holy 

As  an  evening  hymn  ; 
Morning  gladness  hushed  to  sadness 

Fills  it  to  the  brim. 
Memories  home  within  the  music, 

Stealing  through  the  bars  ; 
Thoughts  within  its  quiet  spaces 

Rise  and  set  like  stars. 

For  J.  W.  C.  and  A.  H.  C. :  1865-1890 


THE   DEAR   TOGETHERNESS 

I  dreamed  of  Paradise,  —  and  still, 
Though  sun  lay  soft  on  vale  and  hill 
And  trees  were  green  and  rivers  bright, 
The  one  dear  thing  that  made  delight 
By  sun  or  stars  or  Eden  weather, 
"Was  just  that  we  two  were  together. 

I  dreamed  of  Heaven,  —  with  God  so  near  ! 
The  angels  trod  the  shining  sphere, 
And  each  was  beautiful ;  the  days 
Were  choral  work,  were  choral  praise  : 
And  yet  in  Heaven's  far-shining  weather 
The  best  was  still,  —  we  were  together  ! 

I  woke,  —  and  lo,  my  dream  was  true, 
That  happy  dream  of  me  and  you ! 
For  Eden,  Heaven,  no  need  to  roam,  — 
The  foretaste  of  it  all  is  Home, 

Where   you   and  I  through   this  world's 
weather 

Still  work  and  praise  and  thank  together. 


100       THE  DEAR    TOGETHERNESS 

Together  weave  from  love  a  nest 

For  all  that 's  good  and  sweet  and  blest 

To  brood  in,  till  it  come  a  face, 

A  voice,  a  soul,  a  child's  embrace,  — 

And  then  what  peace  of  Bethlehem  wea- 
ther, 

What  songs  as  we  go  on  together ! 

Together  greet  life's  solemn  real, 

Together  own  one  glad  ideal, 

Together  laugh,  together  ache, 

And  think  one  thought,  '  each  other's  sake,' 

And  hope  one  hope,  —  in  new-world  wea- 
ther 

To  still  go  on,  and  go  together  ! 

Home  Dedication,  1891 


HERO  BY  BREVET 

I  saw  a  veteran  to-day, 

With  hobbling  foot  and  staff  to  stay, 

In  slow  march  by  the  window  stray. 

4  What  rank  ?  '     There  was  no  epaulet,  — 
Some  humble  rank  that  privates  get: 
The  face  said,  Hero  by  brevet. 

1  What  regiment  ?  '     I  only  know 
They  take  the  front  where'er  they  go, 
As  that  were  badge  enough  to  show. 

1  No  colors  ?  '     None  that  I  could  see,  — 
A  few  gray  locks  were  waving  free, 
Like  shot-torn  banners  greeting  me. 

'  In  service  where  ?  '     How  could  I  guess  ? 
No  boast  of  battles  marred  the  dress, 
But  eyes  were  full  of  field-success. 


102  HERO  BY  BREVET 

1  No  scars  or  maim,  no  empty  sleeve  ?  ' 
Only  the  smile  that  sufferings  leave 
And  weary  days  and  nights  achieve. 

1  And  all  alone,  —  no  comrade-brother  ? ' 
Alone,  yet  loved  beyond  all  other. 
*  By  whom  ? '      By  men   who    call    her 
Mother  1 

1886 


NURSERY  LOGIC 

There  in  the  nursery  stood  the  case, 
Old  and  battered  and  brown  with  age,  — 

Dear  Aunt  Ann's  with  the  saintly  face,  — 
Till  one  of  our  toddlers,  in  cherubic  raee. 

Chanced  on  a  spring  and  a  drawer  flew  wide, 

And  lo,  a  plain  gold  ring  inside  ! 

Wee  Aunt  Ann  with  the  mystic  smile, 
That  was  the  secret  thy  eyes  held  fast ! 

Did  they  learn  their   smile  in  the  lon<r-acr0 
while 
When  the  wooers  came   and  the  wooers 


And  not  one  dreamed  that  a  drawer  flew 

wide, 
A  drawer  with  a  plain  gold  ring  inside  ? 


104  NURSERY  LOGIC 

Xobody  guessed  from  then  till  now, 
Little  maid-aunt,  thy  secret  sweet ! 

Then  nobody  shall,  but  he  and  thou, 

Long  in  the  heaven  where  old  loves  meet. 

But  —  knows  he  yet  that  a  drawer  flew  wide 

To  show  his  plain  gold  ring  inside  ? 

So  we  all  agreed,  the  children  and  I, 
Dropping  again  the  ring  in  its  place, 

Never  to  spy  what  lives  so  shy 

There  in  the  heart  of  the  old  brown  case. 

But   the   children   say,    '  If   a   drawer   flew 
wide,  — 

There  's  a  dear  little  uncle  and  aunt  inside  !  ' 

Who  f  is  his  name.     O,  they  know  well,  — 
Have  christened  him,  wedded  him  now  for 
true ! 
But  that  is  her  secret,  and  they  won't  tell; 

So  it 's  just  '  Aunt  Ann  and  Uncle  Who?  * 
And  (bless  their  logic  !)  they  hear,  inside, 
Three  little  dream-cousins  who  laugh  and 
hide. 


NURSERY  LOGIC  105 

Cousins  real  to  the  poets  small, 

Brooding  the  dream,  as  they  themselves; 
Christened  and  charactered,  each  and  all, 

Discrete,  insular,  untwinned  elves  ! 
Poets  —  or  prophets  ?     Should'  heaven  ope 

wide, 
Whose  are  the  children  at  Aunt  Ann's  side  ? 

1883 


HOW   LITTLE  JO   NAMED   THE 
BABY 

He  stood  beside  the  cradle, 

A  tender-brooding  care.. 
Watching  with  love-illumined  eyes 

The  baby  brother  there. 

He  stood  beside  the  cradle, 

While  busily  without 
The  mother  plied  her  morning  work 

The  happy  home  about. 

Three  moons  had  bloomed  and  faded 
Since  '  Baby '  earthward  came, 

Nor  yet  with  seeking  far  or  near 
Was  found  a  fitting  name. 


HOW  LITTLE  JO,  ETC.  107 

Anon  the  door  was  opened,  — 
The  mother  paused  and  smiled, 

As,  face  all  tremulous  with  joy, 
Up  spake  the  little  child  : 

'  Mamma,  I  've  named  the  baby  !  ' 
'  You  have  ?     What  is  it,  Jo  ?  ' 

< 1  'm  going  to  call  him  God,  Mamma, 
That 's  the  best  name  I  know.' 

O  depth  of  heavenly  wisdom 

Alone  to  love  unsealed,  — 
Hid  from  the  wise  and  prudent  ones 

And  unto  babes  revealed  I 

Wee  prophet  of  the  Highest, 

Who  touched  thy  little  tongue 
To  speak  so  clear  the  holiest  thought 

That  e'er  was  said  or  sung? 

The  preaching  of  the  pulpit 

Seems  vague  and  far  away, 
Beside  thy  bolder  faith  that  sees 

1  Immanuel '  to-day. 


108  HOW  LITTLE  JO,  ETC. 

Ah,  well  if  in  each  other, 
As  through  the  world  we  go, 

We  saw  what  in  that  babe  was  seen 
And  named  by  little  Jo  ! 

Cleveland,  1886 


IN   THE   ALBULA   PASS. 

To  right,  to  left,  the  mountain  wall  — 
Above,  the  narrow  strip  of  sky ; 

And  at  my  feet  the  Albula  stream 
With  youth's  impatience  rushes  by. 

The  air  comes  cool  from  snowy  heights 
And  tonic  with  the  breath  of  pine ; 

Around  me  like  a  glory  spread 

The  flowers  in  rainbow  beauty  shine. 

I  leave  the  cares  that  weighed  me  down. 

The  heat  and  burden  of  the  plain ; 
I  feel  the  strengthening  of  the  hills 

And  drink  the  wine  of  youth  again. 

Why  thus  in  haste,  bright  mountain  stream. 

To  leave  these  haunts,  so  fair  to  me, 
Full  soon  to  find  the  dusty  plain, 

Too  soon  the  all-engulfing:  sea? 


110  IN  THE  ALBULA  PASS 

There  comes   a   voice,  —  the    streams    can 
speak !  — 

1  Fair  is  my  home  and  youth  is  free, 
And  glad  my  days,  yet  will  I  go 

On  to  the  plain,  the  unknown  sea ! 

'  For  life  is  motion  and  not  rest, 
Nor  fear  I  what  at  last  shall  be ; 

The  Hand  that  raised  these  mountain  heights 
Has  scooped  the  hollows  of  the  sea ! ' 

I  turn  me  from  the  happy  stream, 
All  bright  the  years  before  me  lie ; 

The  mountains  sink  as  up  I  climb. 
And  nearer  grows  the  widening  sky. 

Canton  Grisons,  July,  1888 


CORONADO   BEACH 

The  air  is  tonic  with  the  salty  breath 
Of  coursing  billows  that  at  last  are  free ; 
Sounds  low  and  sweet  old  Ocean's  symphony, 
Whose   thought    the   varying    heart    inter- 
preted. 
With  upturned  face   and  folded    palms   in 

death 
Lies  Corpus  Christi  in  mute  effigy ; 
Point  Loma,  sphinx-like,  gazes  o'er  the  sea 
Nor  heeds  the  questioning  wave  that  breaks 

beneath. 
Along  the  shore  the  solemn  mountains  keep 
Their  immemorial  watch ;  in  yonder  town, 
Sheltered  between   them   and   the   curving 

deep, 
Unheard  the  tides  of  life  move  up  and  down. 

0  peace  of  Nature !  here  my  burdens  fall, 

1  rest  upon  the  mighty  Heart  of  all ! 

San  Diego,  February,  1894 


DOVER 

Mouse-hole  in  December, 

Quiet  little  Dover ! 
What  shall  I  remember, 

Now  the  days  are  over? 

Snow  in  hushes  falling ; 

Blue  days  creeping  by ; 
Trees  in  still  processions 

Etched  upon  the  sky ; 
And  a  silent  village 

Where  the  gray  stones  lean, 
Whispering  of  a  Dover 

They  alone  have  seen. 

All  I  shall  remember, 

Now  the  days  are  over,  — 

Mouse-hole  in  December, 
Quiet  little  Dover  1 


DOVER  113 

When  I  shall  be  lying 

With  a  gray  stone  over, 
Will  this  great  World  dim  to 

Just  a  little  Dover? 


Dover,  Mass. 


WE   SEE   AS   WE  ARE 

The  poem  hangs  on  the  berry-bush, 
When  comes  the  poet's  eye ; 

The  street  begins  to  masquerade, 
When  Shakespeare  passes  by. 

The  Christ  sees  white  in  Judas'  heart, 

He  loves  his  traitor  well ; 
And  God,  to  angel  his  new  Heaven, 

Explores  his  lowest  Hell. 

1885 


116  TREE-SURPRISE 

Unheard  music  in  the  air, 
Is  it  rapture  or  despair 
In  my  tree  of  life  the  Hands  will  play  for 
this  day's  tune  ? 
But  why  ask  it  or  why  care, 
With  that  gloom-born  beauty  there, 
And  the  Hands  to  play  December  that  shall 
yet  play  June  ? 

1885 


A  DAY  IN  OCTOBER 

I  leave  behind  the  crowded  street, 

The  city's  noise  and  stir, 
And  face  to  face  with  Nature  meet,  - 

Her  happy  worshipper. 

I  walk  the  unfrequented  road 

With  open  eye  and  ear ; 
I  watch  afield  the  farmer  load 

The  bounty  of  the  year. 

I  filch  the  fruit  of  no  man's  toil, 

No  trespasser  am  I, 
And  yet  I  reap  from  every  soil 

And  the  unmeasured  sky. 

I  gather  where  I  did  not  sow, 
And  bind  in  mystic  sheaf 

The  amber  air,  the  river's  flow, 
The  rustle  of  the  leaf,  — 


118  A   DAY  IN  OCTOBER 

The  squirrels'  chatter  in  the  trees, 

The  sunlight  sifted  down, 
The  wholesome  odors  on  the  breeze 

O'er  ripened  harvests  blown,  — 

The  hills  in  distance  purple-hued, 

The  tinkling  waterfall, 
The  '  deep  contentment  of  the  wood,' 

The  peace  o'erbrooding  all. 

The  maples  glow  beside  the  streams 

And  fleck  the  pastures  sear, 
Like  smiles  that  break  from  happy  dreams,  ■ 

So  smiles  the  waning  year  ! 

A  beauty  springtime  never  knew 

Haunts  all  the  quiet  ways, 
And  sweeter  shines  the  landscape  through 

Its  veil  of  autumn  haze. 

The  blessing  of  the  early  rain 

And  all  the  summer's  shine 
Are  garnered  in  the  golden  grain 

And  purple  of  the  vine. 


A  DAY  IN  OCTOBER  119 

What  though  the  groves  are  silent  all, 

No  bird  within  them  sings, 
Nor  on  the  quiet  meadows  fall 

Shadows  from  sunlit  wings  : 

Yet  is  their  summer  music  part 

Of  the  still  atmosphere,  — 
So  Nature  keeps  by  subtle  art 

To  sight  what  pleased  the  ear. 

And  all  my  separate  senses  seem 

To  be  but  passive  keys, 
Whereon  she  plays  her  world-old  theme 

To  wondrous  harmonies. 

I  face  the  hills,  the  streams,  the  wood, 

And  feel  with  all  akin  ; 
I  ope  my  heart,  —  their  fortitude 

And  peace  and  joy  flow  in. 

Like  him  of  old  on  Horeb's  mount 

I  take  again  my  way, 
New-strengthened  from  the  healing  fount 

Of  this  October  day. 

Michigan,  1892 


INDEX   OF  FIRST   LINES 


Pagb 

1 A  cloud  received  him  out  of  sight '      ...  62 

A  little  House  of  Life 31 

Along  the  pathless  prairie 72 

A  rugged  rock  is  the  mountain 67 

As  silent  as  the  sun-gleam  in  the  forest       .     .  29 

Bring,  O  Morn,  thy  music !     Bring,  0  Night, 

thy  hushes 11 

From  age  to  age  they  gather 40 

From  many  ways  and  wide  apart      ....  89 

Gazing   upon    that  face  where    years    have 

wrought 70 

He  laid  his  rocks  in  courses 46 

He  stood  beside  the  cradle 106 

I  dreamed  of  Paradise, —and  still    ....  99 

I  leave  behind  the  crowded  street      ....  117 

In  Father  Time's  old  nursery 95 

I  saw  a  veteran  to-day 101 

It  sounds  along  the  ages 48 

Lo,  the  Day  of  days  is  here 57 


122  INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES 

Pagb 

'Mid  my  life's  vicissitude 30 

Mouse-hole  in  December 112 

No  rights  of  gravity  to  thee,  dear  friend    .     .  76 
1  Nothing  but  a  poet ! '     So  he  said,  and  won- 
dered     68 

No  thrush  at  eve  had  ever  sweeter  song      .     .  66 

Not  when,  with  self  dissatisfied 33 

O  Fount  of  Being's  sea 22 

O  Light,  from  age  to  age  the  same    ....  42 

0  Lord  of  Life,  where'er  they  be 50 

One  thing  I  do  ;  the  things  behind  forgetting  35 

On  eyes  that  watch  through  sorrow's  night    .  51 

On  the  Judeean  hills 59 

On  the  rock  and  girt  with  ice 14 

O  Prophet  souls  of  all  the  years 9 

O  Thou  in  lonely  vigil  led 13 

0  Thou  whose  Spirit  witness  bears    ....  20 

Over  hills  and  valleys 26 

Over  the  land  in  glory 55 

Play  it  slowly,  sing  it  lowly 97 

Sleep,  my  little  Jesus 64 

So  early  lost,  I  cannot  tell  the  lift     ....  87 

So  still !  The  little  bird  sits  on  the  window-sill  84 

Still  stands  the  ancient  meeting-house    ...  91 

The  air  is  tonic  with  the  salty  breath      .     .     .  Ill 

The  morning  hangs  its  signal 16 


INDEX  OF  FIRST  LINES  123 

Pack 

The  poem  hangs  on  the  berry-bush     .     .     .     .  114 

There  in  the  nursery  stood  the  case  ....  103 

There  's  a  rapture  in  the  air 115 

They  came,  bringing  spices,  at  break  of  the  day  52 

The  sunset  glow  is  ebbing 82 

'  Thirty  thousand  ! '  said  the  Fate      ....  77 

This  edelweiss  I  wear  was  not  first  mine     .     .  15 

Thy  kingdom  come,  —  on  bended  knee       .     .  18 
Thy  work   abides,  though   thou   hast   passed 

from  sight 75 

To  right,  to  left,  the  mountain  wall    ....  109 

Unto  thee,  abiding  ever 24 

What  do  you  see,  dear  hill-top  pair   ....  79 

Whatsoever  is  just  and  pure 38 

What  will  the  violets  be 54 

Where  men  on  mounts  of  vision 44 


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